A Promise to Erik
by PhantomsPandora
Summary: This is a story involving many characters of Poto and their lives as Christine returns to the Opera. Chapter Ten is up-read and review if you want! Here It is Kiki! :)
1. A Flashback and a Friend

Disclaimers and Ramblings: No, I don't own copyrights to phantom. I do think this story will be a bit of a challenge for me seeing as how I promised that I would try and not badmouth any character. I've tried to make them true to the story, and human as well. Even good old Raoul is lovable. I don't care if you hate him or not, my Raoul in this story is going to stay a good person. As for the E/C element, it's not even a question, though I'm going to try and not make it easy on them. What? *looks innocent* I like conflict!   
  
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"Why can't she love me, and why can't I forgive myself for what I've done.... "  
  
"Angel?" She asked sleepily, reaching with her hands to touch his hands subconsciously, until the sound of his weeping roused her. Eyes unblinking, Christine the young woman woke to the amazement of one man who loved her. He had taken her to his home, he had to see her once again, be near the smell of her, the sound of her voice. No matter what cost.  
  
"I never was fully your angel. I broke a promise to you and your father, you understand." The man hid his face in his hands, watching the girl come up to him, holding up his mask. Thinking his beautiful apprentice asleep, he had taken off his mask, able to cry in peace without the annoyance of the white leather that bound him to hell forever. Tears hid behind it, and made his already ugly face itch.  
  
"You knew my father, angel?" She put the mask in his lap, quietly accepting that he might come around to trusting her. She had been so wrong that first time in his home, to take it off out of blind curiosity. It had been the first time in her life where she had hurt someone so terribly, by just one action. By exposing his face to hers-and ruining everything.  
  
"Not at all, but I knew your admiration for him, your love for him. I was jealous…horribly jealous…" He whispered, barely able to breathe with his crying.  
  
"Jealous of my Papa? I forgive you, Erik. I forgive you. It's alright." Christine replied softly as she stifled a yawn, after a nap most needed. She knew not why Erik would be jealous, but looking at how he hid here in this place, away from humanity itself, was enough of a clue. Christine did know, however, that soothing tones were the way to calm any temper tantrum, even if she was afraid of Erik. Her father often could cheer her up with a softly said word, a simple touch.  
  
He had leaned into her by accident when he picked up his mask and bid her to turn the other direction. She must not see, she thought, for it would cause such a fright in her. She might swoon. He had been so kind to her to let her nap after music lesson in that room he had made for her-and despite every opportunity; he never once betrayed her trust. Even though at times he crept near her to watch her rest, he never woke her-Until this moment. She could hear his fingers struggle to tie the knot that kept his mask on by those beautiful black satin ribbons, and the sound of his ragged breathing, trying to still his crying. She wished she could reach out to him, yet something held her back. That face would haunt her forever. She didn't know the love that he wanted of her, and she wanted to, badly…but…as long as that face existed, she knew it would not be so. She was afraid of earning his love, and then breaking his heart. Why couldn't he be just her maestro and nothing more?  
  
Things were never that simple, and they never could be. Even her blissful years by her father's side had to come to an end at some point, that point being far too early. She had been just a child, really. She saw the broken child she still was in Erik in times like these, these moments when it was all he could do but cry.  
  
"You do? Why forgive me? If you knew everything...if you knew…" He turned to her as he sat back down on the bed, calming his thoughts.  
  
She remembered how majestic he looked, how darkly handsome, it almost made her blush. Then she recalled his face, the fear she had of his scars, the pigmented skin. "If I knew what, Erik?" She could not sit beside him, so she chose to lay her head in his lap, which returned a look of satisfaction in his fascinating eyes.  
  
"I would scarcely begin before you'd run away from me, Christine Daae." Erik replied, carefully running his hands through her dark hair, sighing to himself. "I cherish you too much to do that."  
  
"Yes, I know you do, Erik." She did not inquire. Maybe he had more reason to withdraw than she could conceive in all of her little travels around the world, seeing so many things.  
  
"Someday, Christine, I might tell you. When you are strong enough to know and when I am strong enough to tell you. " Erik couldn't tear himself away from her now. Her sweet temper had wound its way around his heart, and he couldn't bear to be left from it. Better to lie to her, than tell her the truth.  
  
Christine could only sit and wonder, when would that time come?  
  
  
  
She blinked her eyes, clearing her head and biting her lower lip as her memory/daydream left her. But Erik had said that he loved me, he had shown me what love was in the last five minutes of our meeting. He had shown me unconditional love, until I had broke his heart that last night.  
  
The Angel of Music-He appeared in Erik! She was quite adamant about that as much as her heart softly broke at all the hurt she had caused him. She cried softly, yet another daydream turning into a nightmare haunting her.  
  
She sat in a prop chair on stage, running her hands throughout her black curls, unsure what to do next, or what to say.  
  
"Mam'selle Daae? You forgot your script.." The voice teacher, M.Lockley, an American, sighed as he saw her. She had the most beautiful voice, but it lacked depth, and ..at times sounded as if her heart was never in it. Their new diva had an allure that mystery that her past had afforded. Scandalous, but scandal was always a good thing, not a bad, for it got attention from everyone. And as for her past, she had arrived with it at her heels, but never mind that. Everyone could see she was a fetching and beautiful, and in time, she would get over her troubles..  
  
Christine laughed nervously, hoping no one in rehearsal saw the despair in her wide blue orbs. Her small hand reached up and took it from the old man, well accustomed to his American tongue and bad pronunciation of her language. They had accommodated her on her ship to the America's…to lovely New York in all its decadence.  
  
Indeed, while the poor starved in horrible apartments, and lived to die in factories, it was a lot like Paris in it's own beauty. It made her long for home, to be a child and have her father's warm arms around her. The world scared her, made her feel unsure of her self.  
  
Raoul had sent her to America to stay with his family while he himself went to the Arctic to survey the frozen mass. He had came home to Paris, she heard, in a box. Her time of mourning would never end, her best friend, dead and buried..without anyone to love him, so much like the other men in her life. She read his letters, tears soaking her shawl, before she went to bed each night. She went on, because she knew it was the right thing to do, even if her heart said not to.  
  
Maybe Raoul and Christine never could have been, she thought. It wasn't like she didn't love her best friend and companion, but it was such a sweet and childish thing…even in it's purity. Raoul had been the best of men, and sent her away, and didn't mind once he learned she had taken up singing in a New York Opera house. In fact, in his last letter, he had said how proud her father would be, and he himself was that she could sing with all her heart, no matter how their time apart made them melancholy.  
  
Now that time had been proven by his death. It was a sweet love she had for him, remembered by their childhood playing by the sea, of playing in the attic, listening to Papa's stories by the bonfire. Those bittersweet memories would always stay, but her love for him never had a true chance to blossom. Raoul had gone out of her life, and she mourned him for a period of a year or so, remembering the beautiful boy he had been, the great solider he could have been. Her protector, even against herself. And she needed that, especially now. She had lived for her father, now she lived for Raoul, and a bit, well, more than that, she had to admit, lived for the man underneath the opera, who had taught her music.  
  
His gentle kindness to her in the beginning of her music lessons was something she could never forget. His way of comfort-by singing and by playing music had calmed her soul, before the world saw to it to break the gentleness and goodness away from her. To find that again in someone, anyone…  
  
But Erik was dead, as well. The Parisian newspaper that had come in the mail had said so, and she believed it, for Erik had said he couldn't live without her, or love. It was time to keep her promise to him, time to bury him with the respect he only got in death. She had promised him that on the night of their parting, and now she could not put it off any longer.  
  
She would see the managers about arranging a period of leave, perhaps soon. She could give him more dignity in death, than anyone, including herself, had given him in life. Wearily taking the script that Mr.Lockely had been kind enough to give her…she brought herself back to the rehearsals, to her piece in the Opera. "A midsummer night's dream" -where she was to play Titania, made her smile a little, almost like getting away with murder. Erik would have hated that Shakespearean play. It was, too happy, he had said. Better for her to play Ophelia, or Juliet.  
  
He had made her act those two roles more and more, near the end of their lessons. Part of her lessons that didn't require singing was to help her expression on stage, and she would sit for hours in that large room, over and over reciting the tedious lines. He would sit in his chair like an overseeing Lord, for if she got too tired of the ordeal he was unforgiving and made her go on until a scene was done. Erik never let her forget that was her greatest flaw, that to be a convincing Opera, it had to have believable characters. And those characters must stand apart from one another.  
  
She sung her lines to the Musical Director, happy that it had gone so easily, compared to almost two years before. Everything seemed to flow from her, unlike the shaky girl that had graced the stage not so long ago. She was comfortable with the stage and the people watching her from the audience, and stayed after for curtain calls and meetings with important patrons. She had become everything her teachers and lover had hoped, and that pleased her.  
  
"You do sing so well Madam…" one of the chorus girls told her as they sat through the hour and a half that would be required of them today. She smiled and turned to the young woman that addressed her, and then was completely astonished.  
  
"Megan Giry, what on heaven's good earth?" Christine exclaimed, embracing the laughing girl whose curiosity never ended.  
  
"Maman sent me after you, and I thought I might have a little fun and see what I could do with my voice…" Megan softly laughed, her curls put up until they only swung a little in her sweet and dear face.  
  
Christine had never been happier to see her best friend. She had missed confiding in Megan, and mostly kept to herself. "Yes, well, where is your escort? Surely you didn't come alone… Oh Meg, tell me you didn't come alone on that ship by yourself!" Christine said concerned, putting a hand on her Meg's shoulder, as everyone was too busy in rehearsal to pay attention to two friends who were whispering.  
  
"No… mother wouldn't have let me, you know that…one of the chorus girls has decided to come here as well, and we made good companions. I'll have to tell you about it when we go to dinner tonight, correct? I can't stay long, you know. Mother wants me close to her…. maybe I can stay six months or so…. we'll see." Megan said hurriedly, trying to stifle a giggle by doing so.  
  
Christine smiled, seeing Meg on the verge of womanhood. Time had changed her into a beautiful woman, still tiny and petite, but very attractive. "Oh Meg, but your dancing? Your body will never adjust to ballet again if you take a break like this, you know. And how did you find out I was here?"  
  
"Maman had kept in touch with Raoul's family for her own sake. She wanted to know if you were safe, and if the time came that Erik died and we had no other way of reaching you…"  
  
"You would send me the paper… saying so." Christine finished for her- frowning a bit. She would not cry, she told herself, she would be strong…it would be what they had wanted.  
  
Megan looked out at the auditorium, bare and lonely, nothing compared to the place she called home. It wasn't as majestic-and it wasn't a place for Christine's magnificent voice. She had come here with every intention of getting Christine to come home. She had no friend here, which was obvious. From what she had been able to tell, every night Christine went straight from the Opera to her apartment-that she had heard from snooping in the manager's office. Nodding to Christine's statement…she paused looking around her.  
  
"Well…it is alright. I am just glad to see you." Christine stifled her tears, thinking of the pair of eyes behind the mask that still haunted her. He was dead… Raoul was dead also…and she hadn't done right by either of them.  
  
"As I am glad to see you Christine. It has been so long. Please don't cry. I'm sure that everything will turn out fine."  
  
"Erik is dead, Raoul is dead…." Christine muttered.  
  
Megan comforted her and led her off of the stage so they could talk alone, in a darkened hallway. Maybe it was time Megan told her why she had really been sent here. "I've lied to you, Christine. And it was to keep Erik and you safe. I feel so awful."  
  
Christine leaned up against the wall; her eyes wide open as tears fell down her cheeks. "What do you mean, lie? Megan, you must tell me, what is wrong at the Opera Populaire!"  
  
"Simply, that the newspaper and Nadir lied. Erik is not dead, or was not dead when I left..."  
  
She slid to the floor, a gasp escaping her mouth as she began to feel ill. "He's…not…dead? But…"  
  
Megan smoothed her friend's dark hair and continued. "Maman couldn't hide the secret from me forever. She had been taking care of him, and helped him build his home again. Nadir even covered the whole process up, until I stumbled upon a bank note in Maman's papers signed O.G. It was a brand new letter of course, and in his red ink writing. I couldn't believe it myself...and I had to race to tell you about it. I lied to her as well, and hope she can forgive me. But he's alive..." 


	2. A Friend's Burden and Her Secret

Disclaimer: Sorry, I own everything…Secretly, My name is Andrew Lloyd Webber and you shall all pay for your disobedience. *giggles* okay, so I lied. It's just me and I don't own anything so far, haven't invented any of my own characters. My bending of the truth/or fiction, depending if you believe if Erik was real or not, is a figment of my distorted imagination.   
  
  
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Finding strength to somehow make it home after such a horrible revelation, Christine still didn't know what to think. She was near hysterics, tearing at her hair and rubbing her eyes that were beginning to itch from all the tears she had cried. Her eyes were blood shot and her cheeks were very red and splotchy.  
  
"Christine, you must stop this. You'll make yourself ill, you know. That will do nobody any good." Megan said softly, handing Christine a handkerchief hours later after Meg had been brave enough to tell her the truth.   
  
"You don't understand…" Christine sniffled a little and sighed heavily.   
  
Megan grew impatient. The Hell She Didn't! Megan had been on a voyage that did nothing but made her ill, for her best friend. She had gone into Erik's lair the night of his opera's debut, when no one wanted her there. "Christine-do not say that. If you had known what I've gone through for you, for Erik, for everyone-then you wouldn't say that. If you knew."  
  
If you knew…that phrase struck a chord with Christine, seeing the anger and despair in Megan's eyes. Yes, her friend had been through a lot and it had been Christine's fault. "I'm sorry Meg. I shouldn't be like this. "  
  
Megan looked around Christine's modest apartment, finding posters of Operas on her walls, besides the posters of ballet that featured Meg as Prima Ballerina. She was amazed that Christine had kept up with all Meg's performances, the Opera's performances. She made no move to listen to the apology just yet, unsure that she could answer sweetly without first calming her unruly temper. "Where did you get these?"  
  
"I guess your mother sent them to me, they came one day in a box-and I was only too happy to put them up everywhere. It made it feel like home to have pictures of my friends nearby. Especially you, Meg. You've been so good to me. I feel awful for treating you the way I have in the last five hours. " Christine offered Meg some tea and they sat down at her little table. Meg seemed distant, staring off until she remembered to sip her tea slowly, trying to pay attention.   
  
"It's been so long," Christine began to explain, "since I've heard from anyone. A year, almost two. What happened to Raoul is, very painful for me. Death has always been a hard thing for me, and maybe that's a bit of a understatement. It's never easy for anyone, but I partially am to blame, you know. He wanted to make good with his family, before we were wed, so he sent me to his family while he made one last trip with his brother, who was interested in the surveying of the Arctic. I didn't like the idea one bit, and neither did his family, who was always very kind to me, despite their every reason not to be. It led to a little resentment on my part. But he went off with his brother very happy, until people began to get scurvy, frostbite, all sorts of horrible maladies. If there is one thing I know about Raoul, he was not the little boy everyone outside his family thought he was. He had been many places, and had been close to death several times. He had even served in an army at one point. And maybe that wore him out, you know. "  
  
Meg heard the noises from outside that the other apartment dwellers were making. Shouts, drunken singing. How mad would Erik and her mother be to find out Christine Daae lived in such a place! Why would Raoul's family dump her here? She tried to drown everything out and concentrated on Christine's soft voice, massaging her forehead for a minute. "So…what happened to him? And why aren't you still with Raoul's family any more?"  
  
Christine became embarrassed by Meg noticing the condition in which she lived. "He died of starvation, with a love letter in his pockets for me. He even drew little pictures to show me how beautiful things were there, like the icebergs and animals. He never showed me in his letters nor his pictures how gruesome life must have been. God knows how his older brother made it home, probably on sheer will and nothing else. Either way, most of the crew died. As for Raoul's family, well…" She shrugged.  
  
"No, Christine, you'd be better off telling me. I won't think any less of them."  
  
Christine hung her head for a minute, fiddling with her hands. "You'd be better off to think less of me. I was the one who did wrong there."  
  
"How so?"  
  
" Part of what happened in the last few minutes at the Opera Populaire, changed me forever. For good or for bad, trust in me was broken. I trusted Erik, and he betrayed me, and he trusted me, only to have me betray him. I didn't want to do that to such a good family who had taken me in. I had to learn to trust myself-to become stronger and more adult in my actions. "  
  
"Have you?" Megan asked out of concern.   
  
Christine nodded. "Yes, I have . At the time of Raoul's death, I ran away from all and any charity. I was still was very childish then, and untrusting. It was a subconscious thing, Megan. I wanted to be on my own, and they let me."  
  
"Then I don't see how I could think less of you. " Meg said, beaming with pride at her friend's self confidence. Maybe her scheme would work yet to get Christine back home.   
  
"Thank you Megan. I needed to hear that. So, how long do you plan to stay?"  
  
Meg frowned and bit her lip until it bled. Meg didn't mean to lie, she only lied to keep people safe. And this time, it was herself. "As long as it takes, I suppose to chase away my demons.."  
  
"But your career! How could you not think about your ballet? And your Maman!"  
  
"We all have our own burdens, Christine. Someday, I might be able to tell you, not today. "  
  
"I'll trust you to that. But could you at least give me a hint?" Christine said jokingly, as if to lighten the already somber mood.   
  
"I could indulge you, yes. You see, I left Paris on bad terms. And getting to see you and tell you your news was of great importance. As for the other matter which led me here, it concerns my father. "  
  
"I thought he was dead."  
  
"No, mother had the sense to leave him when he became abusive, yet never told me who he was. " Meg said, her eyes becoming sorrowful and withdrawn. She gripped the poorly made wooden table, feeling as if she had to lock herself inside to keep everything about her father from spilling out.  
  
"OH…God…Meg…and you found out who he was the night you searched the desk, didn't you?" Christine stood and embraced her friend as Meg began to cry. It was such an odd sound to becoming out of a woman, like a little child's crying, it was. It scared Christine to hear it.   
  
"Yes…..and…he's….he's…" Megan began to stutter.  
  
"It's all right, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Meg." Christine began to pat Meg's back in sympathy.   
  
"They've been writing to each other the entire time! Behind my back! Not only that, he has watched me for years and I never knew it!"  
  
"Maybe it was to keep you safe." Christine muttered.  
  
"You don't understand!" Meg grumbled, as she dried her tears.  
  
"Try me.."  
  
Megan tried to catch her breath, unsure if she should go on.  
  
Christine was in a daze. She couldn't be referring to Erik, could she?   
  
Megan laughed in surprise as she guessed what Christine was thinking. "Oh no, not Erik. Heaven's no. This is much worse! It's M.Firmin."   
  
Christine breathed a sigh of relief.." So he came to the Opera for you, didn't he? To be a manager. I never would guessed he was your father."  
  
"Neither would I, until I knew. I was happy thinking he was dead. Now he shows up to ruin everything. And I ran away, citing going abroad with the chorus girl who needed a companion. Mother thought I was coming back with another girl from here, one of our former ballerinas, but she will find out soon that I lied to her. Oh, I can't go back without you! "  
  
Christine saw that she had nothing to lose, and she knew that now was her time to be there for Megan, and she had to get back to Erik. It was the only solution. "Well, then we go to Paris…but for now you can sleep here….and we'll think of how to get home in the morning. "  
  
Meg clapped her hands as her tears began to dry and laughter poured out of her face in joy. "Oh I knew you would! Don't worry, I have money…Maman gave me more than enough to pay for your ticket to...We only have to worry about food, I don't eat very much. "   
  
Christine chuckled. "You little devil. I should have known you had a card up your sleeve! Very well then, as soon as we can, we'll go. "  
  
Megan began making plans that instant, and when they settled down after a long night of having "girl chatter", nothing but dreams of friendship rang true and pure in her head.   
  
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Review if you like! I bet you thought Meg's father was gonna be Erik! 


	3. Reflections and Reunions

Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own Alw's Version of Phantom, I don't own Susan Kay's or Leroux's. That much is obvious, since I have neither of their names. I do however have a shrine near my room to which I pay homage to the phantom gods. I hope that makes up for not having the creative genius that the three above mentioned people have. That said…on with the story!   
  
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Christine wrote in her diary in the middle of their journey-the light of the kerosene lamp enough see with while Meg slumbered next to her, in their room's tiny cabin.  
  
Luckily enough they had left America in one piece, for it was a difficult time getting loose from the managers since Christine had signed a contract. But here they were, traveling back to Paris, mostly keeping to themselves, and quite happy with the books they had brought to pass the time.   
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Why is it that everything seems so simple now? That there is no other direction to turn to other than going back to Paris? I sat up late thinking about how horrible my life has been, and then forgot the best lesson my father taught me, to live life for the living. And now, I must live. I must live for Meg, who needs a friend so very badly. Diary, you see, she has a father now as well. Not one that she wants. In fact I feel quite awful even mentioning my own, whom I loved so dearly. It's not fair to her, Meg wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by a father, and then to find out that he's alive and well and has been quite neglectful of her for years. I am in shock. I cannot imagine what it must be like for her to have to go through this terrible time. All I can do is be there for her, as she was for me.   
  
As for myself returning to Paris, there is much fear, anxiety boiling with in me, so much so that no rest can find my eyes. It is true, that I want to make everything well understood with Erik. I loved Raoul and Erik in different ways, both ways confusing to myself. Erik was my mentor, my teacher, and his passion and love stirred desire, a thing that scared me out of my wits. Not because of his desire, but of mine.   
  
You see, I could never forgive myself for my fear of his face. Yes, it was ugly, but it was for more ugly of me to expose him to the world. I have come to realize that for all the heartbreaking I did inside, nothing compares to the heartbreak I gave him, made him repeat. For I do not know much about his life, but how horrible his must have been! And to make his life even more miserable than to begin with…oh…how easily the tears come tonight!   
  
Yet Erik knew me entirely from the beginning. He had called me a Pandora, a Viper, and maybe it was true- at least the label of Pandora.. I had heard of the Greek Tales of Pandora-she who was the star card in his tarot deck. I found the tarot quite amusing actually, but Erik always had more respect for them than I did. I saw them as pictures and nothing else. Erik was an excellent story teller, and one night he had told the tale to me as we sat together in his sitting room (I call it this because he gave it no name, and this would probably be the best name for it,, for there was a divan, and his pipe organ…things of a parlor nature) . Yes, I believe he did label me correctly.  
  
But nothing stung more than the label 'child'. At first, when I thought he was an angel, it didn't offend me, but for him to tell the world on the stage that night that he desired me, and then call me a child, it started a horrible rage. I didn't think I was capable of rage, the cold kind which sets in your eyes. After all, I was a child then, though I didn't want to recognize it. So maybe he was right in that assumption. I tempted him to take me away when I ripped off his mask, seeing as how there was no option he could have come to other than lead me down the trap door in the stage floor. He couldn't stand there and be shot, and he couldn't let me go without an ultimatum. I was a horrible person. I still believe I am.   
  
I am the monster! I am a Pandora as he says, part angel, part demon! Oh, how could he ever forgive me for the lies and treachery we both caused in each other!  
  
And Raoul, I did love him, though if I could change things, it would all be different. Raoul, made me safe, a protector against myself. Raoul was a solider, a beautiful man who was more adult than little boy, which everyone failed to see. He hated political life, social class, and longed to get a way. He was happiest out of doors.  
  
"I want to be a poor man, Christine, with some land, a place where I can farm…" He had once said to me, and I believe he would be the happiest there. Raoul was my best friend, and my affections towards him were gentle and kind. They in time could have been passionate, but…..  
  
Oh… hang my mind and its thoughts! I shouldn't feel that way for someone I refused, and I will not deny that I did desire Erik. But to be trapped with in that desire, and what was in my heart, the buds of love? O, Torture!  
  
And what right do I have to him once I return? He's probably full of a new life, his music overtaking him and his refurbished home. Hell's Bells!   
  
For Megan's sake I go forth to Paris and it's past memories. As for myself, I cannot tell you what I wish, other than I wish for this all to be resolved. I know it will not be easy nor do I ever expect it to. I'm not welcome in Paris, and I'm not welcome certainly in Erik's home. After all, it was me who left it only to have a mob descend upon him. Hearing his acceptance of me, and what I've done to him, that he won't hate me, will lead me to fixing myself. I must sleep on this, many nights. I hope that everything will turn all right, that I will not end up causing more trouble than I ever meant to.   
  
Forever yours,  
  
Christine Daae.   
  
Christine returned to her dreams, that were filled with confusing love and passion for a man she hardly knew, accompanied by her fear and longing for her friend's pain to be eased. Sleep never came easy to her, but now it was a precious thing. She intended to get a couple hours sleep before they docked, and then made their journey to Paris in the morning. Meg needed her, and she needed to become the strong woman now for Meg.   
  
  
  
Erik slept on his divan in his restored home under the lake, Ayesha, his little lady, asleep on his stomach. His dreams were torture, a replay of this last two years of his life. Even though he knew he was dreaming, the fantasies played in his mind. He could feel himself touching her, kissing her, the smell of her rose perfume. But just as quickly as he had fallen asleep, his eyes had opened. Something unusual in his heart quickened, an alert in his mind. His intuition was screaming.. He just hoped that he could decode his heart's message and that it wouldn't end in his death.  
  
Ayesha mewed at him, almost in question when he ruffled her fur with the back of his hand. She was his trusted and best friend, his only listener. After all, she rubbed against his face without his mask upon it, fell asleep under his neck with no wonder to why the hands that caressed her were freakish and cold. She cared for him unconditionally.   
  
And for most of his life, that was how he preferred things, to be alone with the quiet. He preferred to have just music. But how Christine made him see that life went on around him in it's cruelest way! That there were much more beautiful ways than his way of existence, burying himself only in music, for his world was a tomb to him. Nothing but Christine had made him see what a horror he truly was to live like he had. She had brought him to life, made him yearn for love, family…the things he had laughed at so many years before.   
  
She made his brain and heart trick him into thinking these things for him could be possible, when years ago he would have had the sense to tell himself the truth. It still baffled him that a woman child could stir this in him, after years of careful control not to let such a thing happen. But Christine was no ordinary woman...no ordinary child. She was a beautiful mixture of both, and only her intoxicating power could set such a fierce love from him.  
  
He had taken notice of the female gender before. He had always had respect for them because they were the creatures that men loved to prey upon. Flowers that were torn about and scattered by tears, violence, and waste. Not respected or cherished… but abused.  
  
Not that he didn't see the evil in those which freely exhibited it. He more than greatly resented the shah's mother, who put him through torturous hell by making him build trap after trap of death, when all he wanted was something pure, a building of love to show how much he had cared for the one master who had taught him love of architecture. He could never forget the slave harem girl who had been presented to him as a bride, a gift from the Khanum. He had let her go, only to have the child killed in a torture chamber the Khanum had made up herself. He was disgusted by such women.   
  
Erik sighed and rose from his divan, trying to ignore the patient hope that waited like an alarm bell to ring…He slammed his fists down on the arm of the divan, making Ayesha scamper away with a startled growl. There was no use in pretending she would come back, he should have ended his life like the papers of Paris said he had. He couldn't force himself to commit suicide. Something told him to wait, something told him to hold out a glimmer of hope. He hated his persistent heart, and he hated his prison.   
  
May it be a restored prison, it still a prison remained. He sighed and thought of why he had waited for the last two years. He was a proud being, seeing it unreasonable to call himself a man, even though he had the desires of one. He wouldn't beg for her love, if she did come back. No, he would not have the tragedy of before upon him.  
  
"I see that you're deep in thought, Erik." A woman's deep voice answered to his thoughts, as she entered the room, casually. After all, she had helped him rebuild his home after the mob had destroyed it. She had no qualms about entering it, or asking for permission. She too had a quiet and mysterious presence that unnerved him.   
  
"Yes, I am Mme.Giry. Is there anything you need?" Erik shared his hospitality openly with her. She and her daughter had protected him when everyone wanted him dead. Even protected him from Christine. He admired Mme.Giry's advice, her fear of him never obvious to himself. She and he had respect for each other, and it had kept both of their secrets safe.  
  
"I come with relief, and good news." Mme.Giry said softly, her black dress swishing across the floor as she picked up the reluctant cat and stroked it. "And, Erik, I come with bad."  
  
"What is it? The Opera in trouble, is it?"  
  
Mme.Giry could not answer that question directly. As far as she knew, the opera most certainly could not handle one more passion play of Christine Daae's. Neither could her returned daughter, who had gave no explanation to her sudden trip to America . It troubled her aging heart. Whatever had disturbed her daughter so, it had done it enough to where she had to bring her best friend, Christine, into it. So it had to be something major, this was out of Meg's behavior. Meg was a strong girl, like her mother, she mused. To stir her into this sort of depression, flight, it had to have been something major.   
  
And lord willing, she hoped to keep any stress from her daughter, so she had kept Erik's being alive a complete secret even from her Meg.   
  
"Mme.Giry, you wouldn't be down here if it weren't important. So tell me the truth. I am a impatient being, as a whole. " He said, sorting music with a fury as he selected a piece to play on his restored pipe organ.  
  
She watched his cloak swirl with his anger, his whispered frenzy over the perfect piece of music. "My daughter has returned without a real reason for her departure."  
  
"I'm sure it was a joyous if somewhat baffled reunion. You were grateful to have her home and safe, after doing such a reckless thing." Erik softly commented, his jealousy for love from a mother , the kind that was undying like Mme.Giry had for Meg…making him turn away until he saw only the wall.  
  
"She's hiding something from me, Erik. And she didn't return alone. I can't seem to put my finger on this mysterious return." She sat down in a chair and looked away to the carpet on the floor, watching the cat wink at her with its blue eyes.   
  
"I've never been one to know about girls and their fancies, Madame. Do be direct in what you're getting at. Did she return with….a husband? A lover?" His mind was reeling. He didn't want to think…dare hope that Megan had found his dear Christine.. He had to grip the sides of the organ for balance, to clench his teeth. He had to stay grounded in reality.  
  
She heard his breath hiss in and out, felt the energy coming from the enigma that was Erik, the phantom of the opera. Her mouth couldn't utter the truth. After all, her daughter had been avoiding her because of her companion who covered her face with a hooded cloak wherever she went. Only her voice, her melancholy nature, had given Christine Daae away. At least Christine had the sense to only reveal herself to Mme.Giry by accident, as she had found her in Megan's room, hiding from the world, when she had came home to find them both. Christine shied away, almost if Madame was ready to strike her. She sensed that the girl was truly afraid of her, which inside made her sad, and glad at the same time. She had put a lot of people's careers in jeopardy, and she had drove Megan to the point of paranoia. Made Megan grow up. Not that she ever entirely blamed Christine, for a mother's love was fierce. She had done everything in her power to protect her, even protected Megan from knowing that her father had watched her grow all these years. She might have loved Firmin, but not enough to put her daughter and herself through pain. She did herself a favor by taking the old family name and moving on with her life, making her daughter the beautiful ballerina she was. Yes, and the beautiful woman as well, she had to remind herself.   
  
"Erik…I only tell you this because I am wary of something bad happening. Christine has returned with Meg. I don't know why. I only hope that she's here because she wants friendship with Megan and nothing else. Not to stir up things. " She sighed, aware that she had just signed away the peace of the last two years. But she herself had sent Christine updates of things, anonymously. It was her fault as much as Megan's.  
  
"What?!?" His body flew up from it's sitting position, his eyes filled with anguish and hurt. He hated that his intuition had been right. He hated that he wanted her still. Hated that he still had love. He had no desire upon this earth to be hurt anymore. None. And yet, he wanted her to return to him, if for no other reason than love. His throat choked with tears, his body full of pent up emotion that had to be released before he went into a rage. He respected Madame far too much to let her see that.   
  
"Leave! Leave me!" He said softly. "I must be alone…you have to understand how this is for me! Please leave me! Just GO!" He pleaded, unlike himself. Had he had the strength to, he would have ordered. But he could not, not when it was a person who had kept him safe for so long. He sat back down again, his face in his arms, aware of the vulnerable moment. He could not see anything except for his memories, the cold yet bitter two years lending to something sweeter, something fierce and beautiful.   
  
Mme.Giry ushered herself out, aware that she hadn't done any good at all. But the truth had to be told, she couldn't have kept it in the dark, could she? After all, what if Christine had stumbled in here? She immediately began to hate herself. She could protect him from mobs, but she couldn't protect him from heartbreak, cruelty, and most of all the love for a certain young woman.  
  
Just like she couldn't protect herself. She had failed everyone. 


	4. Of those who know Despair

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! FOR THE LAST TIME!!!!  
  
*ROCKS BACK AND FORTH* HE'LL ALWAYS BE THERE..PUTTING STORIES IN MY HEAD........*SINGS*  
  
@------'----------,-----------'--------------,------------  
  
Erik sunk to the floor in agony, unsure if he could believe the truth. She had returned, but to what? To torture him? He wished that his body had given up long before his heart did-that he had been able to commit suicide. He loved her so, and for her to know that and come back to the Opera…what good would it do? To watch her again, to dream of touching her hair, or kissing her lips. Maybe he imagined the kiss she had given him.   
  
Ayesha came up to him and nudged his shoulder, wondering what all the alarm was about. Inching herself slowly into his lap…she rubbed her face on him and purred away, as if to heal his pain. But she couldn't.   
  
And Erik wasn't sure who could. He was sure, though, that the love he had for Christine never died. He had waited so patiently to hear a word...anything. He had even hoped that after DeChangy died...that he might hear her voice calling to him, welcoming him with arms tiny, yet loving. That she wanted him, existed simply because the other lived…why that was too much. But…a dream never hurt, did it? For dreams never came true, and were so harmless to believe, even if only for a while.  
  
  
  
Christine sighed in the rain, searching the Paris cemetery for a familiar friend. She noticed the family crypt, his name on the small building in the form of a plaque. Crying softly, she kissed the white roses she had gathered and put them in the vase holder, saying goodbye. She began to pray, careless of the mud and the rain drenching her skirts as she knelt. It was appropriate she thought, for the rain to come.   
  
Let the sky and heavens weep for the death of such a great young man...If Christine had her way the skies would be crying forever for Raoul De Changy and her father, for inside, that's what she was always doing.   
  
  
  
  
  
Megan felt her fight with her mother coming on the minute she stepped out again onto the stage. True, she was a little out of practice, but she wasn't that horrible. Yet her mother ran her harder than she could ever remember, more impatient than she had ever seen. Sweat beaded on her face pouring from her, and she felt so sick as if she might faint.   
  
"Really, Maman, you were being unreasonable today!" She muttered after practice, when everyone else had left the stage.   
  
Her mother rounded on her in a fury, her hands on her hips and her eyes like piercing ice. "You, who have no respect for anyone save yourself? Do you know what you did to me when you left? I was worried for your safety…your dangerous journey almost gave me heart attacks at night, just thinking about it. You never told me why. You brought back Christine, which causes more pain to people than you know. What about being unreasonable towards other's feelings!"   
  
Megan began to slump a bit, in her purple leotard and new toe shoes. But the anger grew in her too, well aware that her mother caused pain by protecting her from her father. "She's my kindest and dearest friend, mother. I took her home because she needed to be around people instead of that place she lived in. It was a dump, that's what."  
  
"What she does with her life is her business." A mother said curtly. "It isn't your duty to rescue her. It isn't your duty to hide her in my home. Do you forget what she and the late phantom caused here?"   
  
"No," Megan said, "but I'm sure Erik has tons of opinions on my rescuing her, since you forgot to tell me he's alive as well. It very well shouldn't be your duty anymore to protect him either. But who are we kidding, mother? You've let my father live and breathe right next to me for four years of my life, watching me. You, who told me I had no father at all, because he was dead. He was a abusive man. Well if he was such a bad man in the first place, wouldn't your first duty to me would be to get your young daughter and yourself as far away from that father too? "  
  
Mme.Giry sunk into a chair, unsure if she could even move, much less breathe. Her daughter's brutal honesty…it killed her inside to hear it. "Megan, sometimes you do things because you love them still… or care about them. Richard…he knows, but he's kept quiet. He's happy in his new life…and he's never told a soul our secret. But…how did you know?"   
  
"I came in to look for you one evening, and the letters had fallen from your desk. I picked them up, and one headline caught my eye." Meg said coldly, not sure if sympathy or anger was filling her. She hated to see her mother deteriorate with one argument…, but she also had to take to heart that her mother only hurt herself and her daughter by her actions.  
  
"Then you know. Everything?" Mme.Giry asked, quivering in her chair.  
  
Megan wanted to take everything she said back in the world, for three months ago when her ignorant world ended, her mother had reserve. Now she was breaking right before her eyes. Megan cried softly, crouching and putting her head in her mother's lap. "Yes, I do know. And I'm sorry, for I never should have peeked…but why mother, why everything?"   
  
And Mme.Giry, for the first time in her life, had no answer. She just softly touched her child's head, fingering through her blonde curls. Both women cried, for the grief in their lives.  
  
  
  
The night had turned cold, Christine noticed. She should have returned to Megan's home hours ago, but she had wondered from the carriage after it had dropped her off at their home. Soaking wet then from the rain, and freezing now. But she had forgotten how numb her body had became. It had been so easy to slip in the Opera when no one noticed, too busy with gossip, or practice to be aware of Christine Daae, her white dress torn, muddy and wet, her blue cloak in much the same way.   
  
Feeling warmth returning to her body, she began to shudder, but still she walked towards her purpose. The Angel upon the roof would welcome her, she thought. She could rest in it's arms, and maybe then she could see Raoul, and her father. She hadn't slept in days. To sleep forever…  
  
She had thought about going up to see the angel from the moment she entered the carriage. It felt as if the world closed in on her and demanded her to leave. The angel would understand, angels always did, and would never tell a secret.  
  
It was her only train of thought, and it occupied everything. The Christine who had arrived back in Paris was not the woman who had come back from seeing Raoul's grave. The inscription on his tomb, it would haunt her forever.   
  
Remember me, Lotte.  
  
The hour or so it took to reach the roof, didn't matter much. The snow felt comforting as it fell from the sky, the wind howled, but it sounded like music to her. Reaching the angel, she laid in it, feeling warmth leave as she saw the night sky, so sparkling with the snow. So filled with life that was threatening to leave her. Letting go was so easy. It was a matter of just sleeping, which her exhausted body needed badly.   
  
She began to pretend that the structure was really embracing her. Like Erik's arms, she thought. That one time… when she kissed him so deeply. No kiss on earth had ever felt like that, not the ones after and not the ones before. But the thing that made the memory cling was the scent of him, and those arms that held her so firmly. Now this world of make believe would become reality, and she smiled dreamily, closing her eyes and pretending to be in the arms of the angel of music.   
  
  
  
Megan ran after the form roaming the halls, sure of whom it was. Christine was going insane, she thought to herself. Even Meg couldn't get home after the snow started to hit. It was safer to stay in the warm opera. Mother had gone off to be alone, and she herself had stayed in one of the dressing rooms, leaving the door open. That was when she saw Christine walk past. She cursed underneath her breath, grabbed her wrap, and an extra pair of clothes, putting them on quickly.   
  
She'll catch her death like that, Meg thought, and then she realized that was exactly what Christine wanted to do. Meg followed her quietly and saw her lay herself into the angel and close her eyes. Meg stifled back tears and anger. Damn her! Didn't she see that everything would be alright now?   
  
That she had Meg there to talk to, and they would get through anything because Meg believed it to be so! What if Erik found her, and then there would be two dead bodies on the roof because he couldn't live without her, either!  
  
Cursing, she felt the wind bite her cheeks unwelcomingly. Everything screamed, even the air, for her to leave Christine to this insanity. But she couldn't. Meg's boots scuffed as she ran to the lyre and wrapped her arms around Christine, slapping her face.   
  
"Christine! How could you leave me! Especially now!!!!!" Meg cried, slapping Christine's face, hardly aware of the shallow breathing that Christine was producing. Meg thought she surely had found her friend dying.   
  
She began to cry, slapping her friend's face and getting no response. Going into hysterics, she screamed into the night, Megan angry at the foolishness of love. It had destroyed everything and everyone she knew, and she vowed that she would never surrender.   
  
  
READ AND REVIEW IF YOU LIKE! :) 


	5. You are the Song in My Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. I own my soul, eh…that's it. Anyway, this is so fluffy I should be ashamed. Let this be a lesson to all insomniacs. Start writing when you're sleep deprived and you start sounding like a Nora Roberts romance novel. SHEESH. Na, I'm kidding. Enjoy. Thanks to all who read and review, you keep me writing, confident that someone wants to read my melodramatic imagination.   
  
  
Erik was alerted to the scream, it sounded inhuman and filled with such fury. He leapt up from his cramped spot and ran to get his cloak. What if Mme. Giry' s daughter was in some form of trouble! He'd never be able to stop the anger that would end up resulting in death to whomever caused Megan's pain. The child was unbelievably loyal, to a fault. And the only one with a smidgen of sense among them.   
  
Quickly he bounded up the stairs, wondering why it had bothered him to climb them before. Maybe it was a temporary illness, or the will to not live anymore. But now that Megan's life could be in jeopardy he had to hurry. He cared not to whom he alerted in the Opera as he ran up to the roof, kicking snow with his boots as it melted and then stuck itself to the ground.   
  
Megan held a woman in her arms, begging the woman to awaken. Erik had never seen Meg so distraught, her hysteria surely heard everywhere. The night air was so cold, he thought. Surely the child was near frozen to death…and as for the woman in her arms, she must have died minutes ago.   
  
He crept up slowly, watching Megan hold the woman's body to her, the woman's head on her shoulder, covered by Megan's rage. "Megan.." he silently whispered, seeing agony overtake the woman-child known as Megan Giry, "You must stop this. Let me help you, Megan."  
  
  
  
Megan's eyes opened fully, aware of who had spoken to her. She steadied herself…unsure of why Erik had come. Possibly thought I was Christine, she thought glumly. How ironic the being she had once feared, was the one to run to see about her screams.   
  
She wasn't ready for the shock that crossed his face when she opened her arms and let Christine's head cradle itself in her lap. He immediately snatched Christine out of her embrace as if Megan had killed her, and then scurried away towards the angel.  
  
"What have you done to her? You let her come up here? All alone! Megan, how could you!" Erik yelled, moaning as he saw Christine's lips part breathlessly, her lips turning from her rose colored pink to a blue, her head rolling from it's position in the crook of his arm.   
  
Megan cried out, turning her head away as she watched her friend die in front of her eyes. "I was not aware she was up here until it was too late. Please don't yell at me Erik. If I known, oh god, blame it on me. I shouldn't had left her at home and not expected her to do something like this.." She whispered.   
  
He had no time to answer her, for he raced down the roofs steps until he reached the rooms that were appointed Mme.Giry's office. He was hardly aware of Megan racing behind him, yelling at him to wait, unable to keep up with his fast pace.  
  
Laying her upon Mme.Giry's cluttered desk, he began to rub her hands and face rapidly while Megan heated blankets near the fire. Megan became exhausted, but yet energized, ready for anything. She just prayed to the Lord above that Christine would pull through. She had to, or otherwise…well…she'd feel that she killed Christine by not getting her to awaken earlier on the rooftop.   
  
  
  
Christine sighed softly, blinking, feeling like her entire body was on fire. She cried quietly, looking away from the sight in front of her. Erik, she thought….my angel, he saved me…why? I wanted to die, to free him of myself and the horrible thing I did to him and Raoul. Why couldn't he see that, why couldn't Megan see that. She shuddered and tried to reach with her arms to tug on his cloak, to make him aware that she was awake, and to order him out of here.  
  
She wanted to die, had felt her self crumble from the moment she had left the cemetery. She could remember Raoul, in the sweetness of his temperament and nature, but Erik… oh, Erik…her love for him was so puzzling and complex it frightened her. She couldn't be what he deserved. He deserved a lionness, a woman with a fiery temper and someone who could understand his sad and tragic past and show him how much better life would be with her at his side. Why couldn't he had loved someone else, that woman? It made her weep even more so, just thinking of her.   
  
Snow clung to his face, his cloak, and his mask, twinkling as it fell and melted. If her whole body was not engulfed in the flames of returning circulation, she would have reached up and madly taken the snow off of his face before it chilled him. But being unbelievably shy and afraid as she was, she never would have been able to. If only she could feel his hands now, she thought. They must be like doctor's hands, rubbing her feet and ankles. He paid no attention to where his hands were, although she was aware that if she hadn't been in danger he would have been afraid to touch her hair, much less her legs. He always cherished her as if she was some fragile china doll. Well, she thought sarcastically, he got one part of it right. I definitely feel fragile and as if I could break inside.   
  
"Erik, please stop this…I am in such pain. Let me sleep…." She cried as Megan rushed to her side and put warm blankets around her.   
  
"Oh Christine," Megan said pitifully, "I feel so terrible. Why didn't you tell me, Christine, why?" Meg whimpered, pulling her friends cloak down off of her head and smoothing Christine's pretty dark curls.   
  
  
Erik sighed at the look on Megan's face and tried his best to ignore Christine's plea. Didn't she know that if she slept now, she would more than likely die? Why would she ever want to die-her beautiful heart could not perish from the earth, it meant that no heaven existed if she were to give up and die now. Her kiss had shown him that heaven forgave him for his bitter past, shown him what love really was. How could she give everything up so easily, when it had taken him years to get to that decision?   
  
  
"Say something Erik! Anything. This cannot be a dream…" Christine was frightened by his silence, as she watched his eyes peer into hers. The sadness in them made her wish that she had died in the snow. His pain caused her such torment. How could she close the gap that laid so big between them? She was so frightened and scared. It would be much better for him, if she died now. He could find some other beautiful woman to love.   
  
He was finally able to look away from her sad and beautiful wide eyes. Urgently, he handed the room keys to Megan. "Leave us…find your mother, child. She must be worried, horribly worried. By the end of the evening, I will return her to you. I must speak with her now, and you need not be here."  
  
  
Megan's surprised face hid itself in shame. How could she come back to her mother now? She had failed her as well. Absolutely failed her, argued with her, broke her heart. And now to come back to her and prove that her mother was right about Christine? "If…you t…hink it best…Erik." She stuttered, giving one last look at Christine. "Forgive me, Christine. I am sorry. If I were a good friend, I would have known." She exited, going down to find a quiet place to think.   
  
Christine smiled at that. "No, you were my best friend, Megan. I am ashamed at myself for involving you. Please some day, forgive me." Christine shuddered, looking around the office at the plain pictures of still life fruit, glancing at the orange glow of the fire as it reflected off of Erik's pearl finished mask. The silence between them grew thicker by the moment.   
  
"You must hate me Erik. I've given you every reason." She finally spoke, moving in agony to put the woolen blankets around her body.   
  
"Don't ever you dare speak like that. I trapped you in a gilded cage. What logic did I use? Why did you come back? To torture us? To relieve a memory filled with hate for me, and longing for your Raoul? To kill yourself so that I would know what a monster I am? That I caused your death? I cannot live in my prison anymore than you can in yours. Your visits to me made this monster happier than he could have ever imagined, and yet you wanted to taint those memories. Don't you understand that…"   
  
He tapered off, standing in front of her and shedding his cloak, as his eyes conveyed anger. He reached out and almost touched and smoothed a tear from her face. If he was not so focused on her, he would have been crying himself at this point. He couldn't because he loved her so, for he'd blurt out how much he still cared and loved her, and he had no wish to have the child give up and die right in front of him.   
  
"Understand what? I understand nothing and yet everything. I knew you never could see how much.. .oh, it's pointless now." She sobbed, "I've angered you and you won't see how sorry I am for failing to be what you and Raoul deserve. You were never a monster to me…that's your description, and not mine. Your anger frightens me, your yelling frightens me, but you underestimate me. When I kissed you, I…oh, you'll never believe me anyway. What's the point? I'll always be some little child to everyone, incapable of taking care of herself or ever being able to love someone so much she can't explain. I never meant to taint your memories. I merely taint everything I touch. I couldn't even be what my father wanted, don't you see? I couldn't be the diva for him, I couldn't stand on my own, I can't live without any of you and I don't know why! I don't understand what drives me anymore, only that...I am filled with terrible sorrow at the death of the child that once could have been something outstanding, something all of you wanted of me. I am sorry for causing such tremendous pain and for not one moment, causing joy to anyone else. I never repaid my debt to my father for loving me the way he had, for never being his dream. I am a miserable failure at every expectation that's been made for me. And, if I just end it, go to sleep forever, at least I could be with my father and make things right. Even for you. You deserve so much…"  
  
  
Erik touched her shoulder with his ungloved hands, producing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping away her tears as easily as he wished he could wipe away her pain. How could this child ever feel so much pain? It was almost as if her torment surpassed his.   
  
"I don't deserve your adoration, child. I merely exist because you made me happy. I hoped you would return to …don't cry Christine. You lived up to every dream of mine. Even though I greedily wanted so much more. You cannot die, for you are like a rose in the snow. You are like sunlight, you gave me the sun on my tortured face when you kissed me. Yes, I know what your kiss meant. It meant that I could live. "  
  
"You are not angry?" She asked shakily, moving to sit up on the wooden desk. She was surprised at his tenderness, his ability to touch her.   
  
"I am angry at your rashness, yes."  
  
"But yet you don't lash out at me. You don't hate me."  
  
"You are apart of me. I cannot lash out at the beautiful part of myself, now can I?" His eyes almost smiled, remembering the times when he would tell her the fairy tales he had heard from Persia, how she had lain her head so carefully in his lap and let him rest his fingers in beautiful raven like curls.   
  
"I am not beautiful, " she muttered, "merely fractured from what I originally was. But to at least be apart of something, something wonderful.."   
  
"You are beautiful, even in your fragile state. You are everything your father wanted, don't you dare doubt that. You must promise me something, Christine."  
  
She nodded, "Anything. Anything you want."  
  
"Don't do this to yourself. Megan loves you like she was related to you. If you saw the pain in her eyes, you would know how much you mean to her. You must promise me that you'll live. For her….and for me.." He added himself as almost a whisper, merely moving his long and skinny fingers on her shoulders in a comforting gesture. "You must promise that you'll never forget…never forget what you meant to Raoul, and others. You forget that, and you'll never know what is beautiful about you."  
  
She blushed, hiding her face, almost grazing his chest with her head. " I don't know how I can ever be what you ask. I meant something….to Raoul. He was a sweet and dear man. But his death taught me to gain confidence to manage my own life, and I'll be grateful for that gift he gave me. My father gave me the gift of love, of protection. After he died, I felt unsafe, and unwelcome to the world. What I wouldn't give to crawl back in his arms, for someone to be able to hold me like he used to…tell me that I was loved and would always be loved. I promise you that I will never leave this earth without a reason why."  
  
"I will always be your friend, Christine."  
  
Christine bit her lip unable to tell the truth. She loved him…..more than she could ever say, so terrifying and fierce. Yet he deserved to know. "I know that you will, you will always be the dark angel who promised me to live on a cold night. I am so sorry….I cannot be…." She broke off in tears, afraid she'd never be able to say what lived in her heart. Her wide eyes were bloodshot with tears, and her almost gray eyes looked exhausted. "Promise that you'll never think less of me, no matter what I've done. Please be my friend. When you were my angel, you were the only one I could speak to. I came back home, because it's where I could find my father's heart. I…will make my promise to always stay here. Here in my home, with my friend who understands me for who I should be inside." She smiled weakly. All the fear and terror that they had both caused in the past had melted away. She stared in his eyes, as he nodded. She was never more content than had she been at that moment. Even her fear about his face had seemingly disappeared when she saw the quiet compassion he had within himself still, even after all she had done.   
  
"I promise."  
  
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" She asked out of self wonder. "Just until I sleep…I can't stand to be alone."   
Her eyes were closed even before she had uttered the last word, her head falling on his shoulder. He stood in shock at her innocent gesture, until he put his arms around her and put her gently back onto the desk, wrapping her in the blankets so she would sleep comfortably. He pulled up a chair, taking one of her tapering hands and wrapping it in one of his.  
  
He whispered softly to himself, before he too drifted off to sleep. "My Christine, you will always be loved."  
  
Christine lost in dreams, but she couldn't help but show a childlike smile. She could keep her promise to Erik, as long as things stayed just as they were now.   
  
  
  
OKAY, I KNOW IT WAS COMPLETE FLUFF, DON'T LAUGH AT ME, DARNIT!! REVIEW, FLAME, OR WHATEVER. I'M WELL DESERVING OF IT. BARNEY MUST ENVY THIS. LOL. 


	6. The Past Haunts Us All

Disclaimer: Btw, Erik is my husband and he tells me I may write whatever I want concerning this because ultimately, he owns the whole poto franchise. SO, as long as I don't anger him……….: ) well, Erik willing, I'll be around for the next chapter. Thank you so very much for the reviews you all gave me on my last chapter. I really don't like just restricting myself to a couple points of view, so there's several. The main characters in poto may very well be Christine and Erik, but there's a lot of good background characters as well. Btw, conflict still reigns supreme. Keep that in mind when you read this.   
  
Megan took her time returning to her mother, wandering around in the halls, dawdling as she usually did. She didn't know how to act after their explosive fight. Didn't know if she could handle one more argument. She had said the worst things, even though she had told her mother her feelings on the subject. Megan could keep secrets, and had from the moment Christine had entered her life. But she could not handle that such terrible secrets had been kept from her. Worst of all, she couldn't understand why her mother still loved the man who had almost ruined their lives.   
  
"Dastardly cold, isn't it, my dear?"   
  
Megan hid immediately, groaning to herself as she recognized the woman that was speaking in an office with the door open. Firmin's wife, she thought. How appropriate that she would be here along with her father. She smirked, holding back a rueful laugh that even Erik would envy, she'd wager.  
  
"Yes, it is." He commented, going through his papers. "Glad we had stayed here instead of going home. Might have had an accident."  
  
" I wonder where Megan is? Did you see her today?"  
  
Meg growled, pushing away all the happy memories that her mother and this woman had shared when she first arrived with Firmin. Firmin's wife, Anna Marie, always loved giving presents at Christmas, and Meg had begun to anticipate her present, a white scarf embroidered with doves that had her name stitched with Anna Marie's own hand. She adored the woman, looked up to her. But now that she knew, that she lived with the man that had beaten her mother, she had no respect for her.   
  
"No…but I've seen to Megan's lodgings tonight. Apparently they're staying here as well." Firmin stretched as he went through his papers, noticing that tonight would be a long one.   
  
"It's a shame that you don't interact with her. She is your daughter, and if she doesn't know she should know." She stopped herself from going any further in her scolding, for it was such a painful point. Nothing short of a miracle that no one in the opera house had guessed or even questioned Megan's parentage and assumed Mme. Giry was a widow. Surely everyone had taken notice of the way they both had the same temperament. But one hardly took notice of such things unless the knew both father and daughter like Anna Marie Firmin did. It had been hard in her life for Anna Marie to accept that her Firmin had done terrible things in his first marriage, a shameful divorce. It had been even harder to become friends with Mme. Giry and her little daughter, Anna's own stepchild.   
  
Firmin turned to his wife and tried to hold down all the mixed emotions that came pouring forth. "It is how her mother wished it. With the way I treated her, how can I blame her?"  
  
Anna knew everything and wished the past to remain there. In the beginning, the truth had bothered her, for who could stay with a man who had done that to his first wife? She was at peace with the past. He had never raised a hand to her, or hurt her. The past was a shell of hurt man, without any money to help feed his wife and growing child. So instead he drank, drank away the losses. He failed to see what he had in front of him.   
  
Anna had met him when he was long past that. How well she remembered when he had politely taken her by the hand and kissed it at that party so long ago! She had thought she would always be an old maid, living in her deceased parents home, never having any time for love letters, or fun. Because her friend had begged her to go, she had gone to the winter party, she had met Richard, the most gentle and reserved man she had ever laid eyes upon.   
  
He was a part of the first year she had ever felt happy, or wanted. She couldn't see him doing all these horrible things in his first marriage, but she accepted it. Anna had overlooked her friends displeasure of marrying a divorced man, and had even become friends with his first wife. She had love and compassion in her heart for everyone.   
  
"Oh….it just seems unfair somehow, darling." She said softly. "She's such a bright and beautiful girl."  
  
"Which is precisely why, I cannot have a relationship with her. I ruined her mother's life…how dare I try to be on good terms and then….then ruin hers when she finds out the truth? How can she not hate me? Don't you see it's hopeless?"  
Trembling…she tucked a brown curl back into place as she realized he had a point. "She'll want to know you, in her own time. You owe her an explanation, Richard. You owe it to her. She is your daughter."  
  
He could say nothing more…he knew she was right. He did owe her an explanation for walking out on her mother all those years ago. He had no right to keep a secret so big. The only reason he had worked so hard to be a Manager here, was too look after his daughter in his own way. He had tried to forget the past, but all of that past shone in his daughter's eyes.   
  
Megan scurried away from her hiding spot, trying not to cry. She couldn't go to her mother now, she was too filled with pain and the feeling of hopelessness. She wandered the halls alone in the dark, thinking about what had been said until she found her mother's office. Erik had said he would come and get her when Christine was feeling well… and she felt like it had been hours, and she had to talk to someone….hopefully Christine was better and had not taken ill. If she did, Megan wouldn't know what to do, she'd be so beside herself. She knocked softly, waiting to see if there would be a response. She was still afraid of Erik, still afraid of the past just as much as her father was afraid of the past.   
  
  
Christine woke up uncomfortably. She had forgotten where she had fallen asleep, on Mme. Giry's desk. Perhaps they had lain her there because it was easiest to examine her there and keep her alive. Plus, it was closest to the Opera doctor. She rubbed her neck with the back of her hand and smiled. Erik was asleep in the chair, his arms folded and dozing sweetly.   
  
She stood and smoothed her dress, frowning at the stain that was made by the snow near the hem of her white gown. Despite it's tears and the mud stains, she refused to leave the room and see if she could find Meg. She hated the dark and didn't want to be in such a huge place as the Opera Populaire was, wondering around and stumbling through it's long halls and corridors.   
  
She crouched and warmed her hands by the fire, watching the orange flames mix with the red. She had hardly been inside Mme. Giry's office before, and took notice of it now as she warmed herself. Then, she heard the sound of a knock, so soft and tiny that it was barely recognizable. She stood and stretched, trying her best to not awaken Erik.   
  
"MEG!" She whispered as she opened the door and felt her younger friend hug her tightly. "Why aren't you with your mother?"  
  
"I couldn't go…"  
  
"So I see," Christine said, patting the hair on her friends head. "What are doing up at this hour? It must be near three in the morning!"  
  
Meg sighed, noticing that her friend had much motherly instinct within her, and it glowed from her like a bright candle. Something had changed within Christine, and it was soothing. "Oh, I just couldn't go. We had a fight this afternoon."  
  
"How terrible," Christine thought wistfully. Her father had never fought with her, not over anything that would lead her to leave him for hours as Meg had. She vaguely remembered her mother, but she remembered the last words to her mother were ones in anger. Her eyes misted over in regret. "I am sure she will forgive you."  
  
"She has, and that's the hardest thing. She should be angry at me for finding out her secrets…she should be mad that I went to America. But she's not."  
  
"She missed you, Megan. She loves you, and was afraid for you. She's your mother and always will be. Whatever secrets are there, they were there because she wanted to protect you."  
  
Megan looked up and nodded. Shaking softly with tears falling down her face, she smiled at her friend's warm face. Something quiet, she thought as she watched her friends eyes cloud with tears of her own.. She turned her head to the side and noticed Erik sleeping. "He can't hear us, can he?"  
  
Christine laughed softly but understood her friends need for privacy. "I doubt that he's listening. He's been fast asleep for as long as I have been."  
  
"Christine…forgive me.."  
  
"For what Megan, you've done nothing wrong."  
"I'm still afraid…."  
  
Christine understood immediately. She knew deep down that their tragic love tryst had not left anyone unaffected. Especially her best friend, Megan. "It is alright, Megan. You don't have to be afraid."  
  
Megan stiffened and walked out of her friend's embrace. "I have no guarantee for someone who disregards all human life besides yours, Christine. I saw the dead bodies with my own eyes."  
  
"Oh Megan!" Christine whimpered, "I'm sorry you'll just have to believe me. Please."  
  
"Christine….I just don't feel safe. Would you mind at all if we went for a walk in the halls?" Megan begged.   
  
Christine's eyes went round at that. "In the dark?"  
  
"The dark won't harm you. It always helped me to think." Megan suggested. She couldn't stand there at the doorway. Now that her friend had been rescued by Erik, the fear overcame her and she no longer wanted to be here to tell Christine everything.  
  
"Alright Megan. Give me a moment and I will be there." Nervously she drew the door to a close. She couldn't go without telling Erik where she would be. She didn't want him to think she had done something drastic. Christine went over to his sleeping form and reached over and softly pressed her lips to his unmasked cheek, smiling softly.   
  
"I will be back, Erik." She whispered in his ear.   
  
As she grabbed the doorknob to leave, she glanced back. If she hadn't known him to be asleep, she would have thought she had seen what very well might have been a smile of contentment on his face.  
  
  
  
Nadir sat in his home near the Opera house, reading the mail as he had a moment to settle. It was pleasing to him to have a nice fire-nothing to worry about, and no cause to rush off to the Opera. Namely, Erik being that cause. He done so much for Erik, and although he could never forget, he had tried to stay away from Erik and let him live his life. It seemed too good to be true, this year of peace. Reaching upon his weathered desk he drew out the letter that Mme. Giry had sent him.  
  
M. Nadir,  
  
I do believe there is danger in our Opera house again. My daughter has returned, only for me to find out that she will not tell me why she left. She has brought back, Christine. As she was always Meg's friend , I scolded my child with caution, but remembered the great friendship the two shared. It is hard for anyone to dislike Christine, but we have all risked our very lives to keep the both her, and Erik safe. I do not believe that she will be able to keep herself away from the Opera, nor keep herself from our fellow opera ghost who is still in love with her. I know that you watch over Erik as do I. I made a mistake in informing Erik that Christine had returned, thinking that by telling him we could somewhat delay or prevent their meeting again. I am almost certain however, that all of this was in vain. Please M., I know that you have an understanding of sorts with Erik. There has been too many accidents, too many…brushes with disaster. Their very meeting could signal the end of the Opera house itself.  
  
Please see to this situation immediately. Our very lives are in your hands.  
  
As always,  
  
Mme.Giry  
  
  
Nadir rung up his carriage and grabbed his heavy coat as soon as he had read the lines. His friend did not comprehend what he had done to the young girl, and vice versa. It meant everything to him to stop it. He could not have anymore death.   
  
  
  
Erik could not help the overwhelming emotion that had swam up. He could not forget her real kiss to him, when she had kissed him on his misshapen lips, clung to him as if only he in the world existed. She had thought him asleep, just now. He reveled in the feeling...and the part that loved her still reached out for hope. Christine had such a healing quality about her, yet such sadness. What could he do to show her that she could trust him, even though he had done everything to prove to her she shouldn't? He waited for her return. Obviously it she had gone with Megan to go somewhere…but her promise that she would return….that she wanted to be around him. It gave him more of a gift than he ever deserved from her.   
  
The door creaked open, and he reached for his mask and swiped the tears of joy away before Christine could see them. Too soon, he reasoned. He could not break their fragile bond by telling her that he still loved her.   
  
"Christine?" He whispered, standing and stretching quickly.  
  
"I'm afraid not." Nadir said, nodding his head formally. He had spent the last of a good hour trying to find out where Erik was hiding, and had ashamedly spied on Christine leaving Mme. Giry's office.  
  
Erik clenched his hands, unsure if he had found Christine. How dare Nadir ruin such a moment. "Why, are you here?"  
He said dangerously, taking his clock putting it back on. "Where is Christine?"  
  
"I do not know. What are you doing in Mme. Giry's office, Erik?"  
  
"That is of no importance to you." Erik disregarded his friend and focused on keeping Christine's suicide attempt a secret.   
  
"It is of every importance to me. I am you friend Erik, I must see to it that you and Mlle. Christine are safe. Even if that means from each other." His soft accent had quietly held back all the swimming memories of the child who had braved everything, even risking her lover's death to show compassion to Erik. He had remembered, when Erik had come to his home and told him how Christine had kissed him, but bade Nadir not to look at his face. Yes, it was ugly, his face, Nadir remembered, but nothing as ugly as his raw anger when unleashed.   
  
"I would never harm her, you know that Nadir." He said, flicking letters off of Mme. Giry's desk out of frustration. Keep them apart? Why, everything was falling into place!  
  
"No, you would harm everything she loves to make your point. Come hell or high water, right?"  
  
"Nadir, you've done everything for me. You have helped me rebuild my home. I am not as stupid as you assume. You will not keep me and Christine apart. As a matter of fact, Christine and I have come to a understanding that needed neither of your careful watch or Mme. Giry's. "  
  
"Erik you play with a child's heart. A young woman who has suffered so much. Let her go. Let her live her life. She has lost her beau. Do you not think that even her understanding with you was on feelings that were and still are mixed? Do you realize that she is a woman in morning for her young lover?" Nadir felt as if the man that was Erik easily dismissed the months of suffering. How could Erik so easily forget the pain when he looked at Christine?   
  
Erik crossed his arms, with a smug smile on his face. "I more than realize it. I agreed to be friends with her."  
  
"I know you more than you think. Neither of you will allow it, it is folly. You are both always reaching for more when you cannot have it. Her with her father, you with your constant greedy need of her. Let it go."   
  
"You cannot ask that of me."  
  
" I can and will for the sake of her. Friend or not, you are not one she can not easily confide in. I know you will never lay a hand to her, but the truth might harm you more than you wish. There's a part of her that still loves Raoul. Had he been alive, she would have never come back. They might have been married by now, she with children."  
  
Erik held his rage in check, but his breath came out like a hiss. "Stop! It didn't turn out that way! Don't torture her with a dream, either! I know she loved him! He's dead, nothing can change that!"   
  
"Erik, for your sake….keep yourself away from Christine. " He laid a hand upon Erik's shoulder, well aware what potent danger laid beneath his tan fingers.   
  
"My sake? I doubt anyone cares about my sake. Christine needs a friend. You do not know her like I do."  
  
"You love her too much to stay friends for long. You cannot disguise your feelings as well as you can disguise your face. You told Paris that you loved her."  
  
Erik well remembered that night, on front of the stage. He had openly begged for her to change her mind, and then she exposed his face to the world. "Paris would do well to forget a ghost. I do love her Nadir. I'm the only one in the world who understands her. Not even her Vicomte could understand the longing in her heart…her love for music. I can."  
  
"Please leave her alone Erik. Please. Swear it to me." Nadir shook a crooked finger Erik, his whole body aflame with anger.   
  
Erik began to yell out his anger so he would not wring that neck. He had never been so tempted to do it, not in all of his being. "I cannot, nor will I ever! You will not keep me from her Nadir! No bond of friendship we ever made will be worth what I feel for her!"   
  
"Erik…please.."  
  
"NO! NEVER! I must watch over her and protect her. I swore to her, a sacred vow, only you'll never understand because you don't understand us. You don't know her."  
  
"Neither do you. Keep away from her Erik, watch over her and protect her if you must, but do not ruin her life and what's left of yours. I swear to you, I will not save your life if you put you or her in jeopardy , even if it's my hand on the trigger. You cannot harm that child. If she comes to you in friendship, in love, whatever, it is my business. I am the one who protects you and keeps watch over you. Be good enough to remember that Erik." Nadir did not even take a second glance as he walked away his old fashioned Persian robes catching the breeze of the door as it violently shut.  
  
Erik looked away, knowing that Nadir was no liar. He would kill Erik if it meant giving Christine the life she deserved, giving him the dignity in death that he deserved. Saving him from his own folly. Erik had to protect Christine now, even from herself. This wasn't about love. He began to think. If he could not contact her by speaking with her face to face, what would he do?   
  
Hastily he picked up paper and wrote a letter to Mme. Giry, explaining that she was to take care of Christine and see to her having new clothes as her current ones were torn and of no use. Secondly, she was to make sure that Christine could reach him whenever she wanted. Whether Mme. Giry would allow this, he did not know, but Mme. Giry owed it to him to see that she was at least taken care of.   
  
Wherever Christine had gone, she would be back. He had heard her tell him so herself this early morning as she kissed his cheek and walked quietly out the door. Oh! What might have happened had she stayed! He had promised the world to her if she but asked for a corner of it. But Nadir had told him sound advice, even though he didn't want to inwardly admit it was true. What if Christine could only be on friendly speaking terms, always in love Raoul, truly in love with Raoul?   
  
The truth was, if Christine loved a dead man for the rest of her life, it would kill her as much it had killed him when she left. He couldn't stand to see last night happen again. She had to be happy, and far as he was concerned, that happiness had to involve him in it. Being what ever he had to be. Angel, first, and now her confidante.   
  
He began to write another letter, leaving it there on the desk to read when she returned. He knew she would be profoundly disappointed, but right now it was enough to know that they were on speaking terms again, even more than speaking terms. He thought about how he felt when she had fallen in to his arms and asked him to stay and watch her sleep. He had woken up many times to see a beautiful face smiling, and so he had to reach out and touch her hair, make sure she was real.  
  
He couldn't sleep and not know that this had all been a dream. Erik finished the letter and grabbed his cloak and hat, making himself exit with all the strength he had, not waiting this time to see her reaction. He couldn't see the look of sadness on her face when he had abandoned her, to keep them safe from Nadir, and himself.   
  
  
  
  
Well, what's the verdict guys, like it or not? I know, I have a problem with conflict….I adore it. Read and Review please. Love you all lots, you know, and I'm sorry it took so long to finish. 


	7. Your voice is all I hear

Disclaimer: Yeah, He's still my husband. Sorry gals! J/k ( yeah, right, can't you just imagine how we'd all fight over him? I imagine he'd get so frustrated he'd send us all to the torture chamber LOL) Waaahahahahahahaaaaaaaaa Dotv is previewing tonight and I can't be there and *sniff sniff* it's not fair!!!   
  
Chicketieboo: Aww I didn't abandon it. I just let the muse come on it's own. That's part of the reason I really need to post some of my other stuff so you won't think I've dropped of the poto planet.   
  
  
Meg sighed, staring out the immense window at the snow glistening on the ground as the moon shone down upon it. Christine was more confident near the light of the window, gravitating towards the light as if her life depended upon it. Why was she so scared of the dark? It was almost a childish fear that something would come out and grab her!  
  
"So Meg, why are we here? What is it that you needed to discuss?" Christine desperately wanted to return to Erik, as much as she loved her friend. It was just the dark, she decided, the dark which threatened to claim her.   
  
"It is my father…." Megan said, beginning to pace the floor.  
  
"Your father, Megan? I'm sorry… tell me about it, for you know you can always tell me anything." Christine said, looking away to the window again, watching snowflake after snowflake fall to the ground, amazed at how soothing just window watching could be.   
  
"It is not just that, it is my mother as well. I argued with her today, found out things, that maybe I shouldn't have. The worst of it was finding out, that without her telling me, my mother still loved the man. The man who could have made our family perfect, but didn't. A coward. I have never seen anything of love that will ever make me want to be in love. Ever. All the glittering examples have proven to me that nothing ever ends happily." She said sarcastically.  
  
Christine understood that she meant her choices in love as well, and hid her feelings of shock inside herself so that it did not show. "That is not true of everyone. There are some who marry and love forever."  
  
Megan laughed at that. "How can that be possible. Forgive me for sounding profoundly rude, but all your expertise comes from fairy tales and…your father. You can't chose whom you love, you will forever be a slave to Erik and Raoul."  
  
She took a big breath, not ready to answer this truth or any other thing that ever came out of Megan Giry's mouth. "My father loved my mother for all his days as if that isn't proof enough, Meg. He couldn't ever love anyone else. I know plenty of love. I knew it from him and others. You know it from your mother. As for love, I will not be a slave. I will chose who rules my heart."  
  
"If Raoul were alive, would you be here, Christine?"  
  
"Raoul is dead! If he were alive, yes, we would be wed! We would have lots of children, a nice place to live, and our love to live upon if there were no money!" Christine looked towards the ground.. "I love them both, you understand...I do."  
  
"No, you do not love Erik. You love Raoul, you only think you love Erik. He is the alternative since Raoul is gone. Don't you see Christine, you are dependent upon men?" Megan shouted, almost wanting to ring her friends neck.   
  
Christine stomped, almost hissing at Megan. Now her friend had gone too far. "You're acting just like everyone else. Go on, think the worst of me! I don't care! "  
  
"You never answered my question, Christine. Would you be here if Raoul was alive? Would you even give me or anyone else a second glance or thought?"  
  
Christine broke down in tears, moving away and going into the darkness so she could cry in private. "No….No, I wouldn't be here, but I'd still be your friend. I'd always be your friend. And I would always want Erik. Why couldn't I have been two people? One, that could have loved Erik as he wished, and the other who could have loved Raoul for the rest of her days? Meg, I know your mother's heart. Firmin is a good man, despite his past. Erik despite his past…. Oh I know all of the horrible things he's done, and I don't care. I love him, in my own way. I am growing to love him more with time. I am not dependent on him. If you hadn't found me, I would have thought he was dead. I would have lived my life and never loved another soul. For two men who loved me was plenty enough for me."  
  
"Christine, I am sorry. I am sorry…I have never been so sorry in my life. I've broken the two women in my life I care about most." Megan sighed, coming to Christine. "I never have had a good temper, and now, I just hurt everyone when I open my mouth. Let me walk you back to Erik, I don't….think I can ever repair this tonight, can I?"  
  
Christine's body was racked in tears. She wanted Erik, right this minute to put his arms around her, to rock her until there were no tears left in her mind or her heart. She did love Erik-she did! She put her head on her knees and sobbed aloud. "I forgive you-Meg……because…..I care about you….you are the best friend I've ever had, and the most honest person I'll ever know in my life."  
  
Megan wanted desperately to hide away from anyone and everyone, until everything blew over and it would be alright again. "Then what would make you happy right now? Could you tell me that? What would make you happy for the rest of your life? I know my mother is happy, but a part of me dies just looking at the forlorn look she gets. I never knew why she was always so harsh with me when I was younger, and I know what it is now. She did it to keep me closer to her. And I make her happy. But what makes you happy, Christine Daae? What makes you happy? "  
  
"That isn't dead and gone? Erik. Erik makes me happy, in a quiet way. He would never let harm come to me, never. He always provided for me, even if he was blatantly honest, like you. I never saw how much I hurt him. Part of what I felt for him stirred when I kissed him. Part of me grew up forever, and when I saw Raoul, I just didn't want to think about it. I loved Raoul, with a child's heart, full of innocence, and peace. What I feel for Erik…is yearning, wanting to be understood, wanting to know that someone will always be there for me. And he would, he pledged his life to me. I haven't a soul to depend upon besides you, and Erik. It's not much, and there never has been many in my life to talk to. Please, let's be friends now, and forget it, alright, Megan?" Christine sat and wiped the tears from her face. It had seemed to her that she was always crying, that there hadn't been many happy moments in her life. She thought it was high time for some. She longed for laughter, and smiling. She stood and took Megan's hand.  
  
"Let me take you back to Erik tonight, and we'll talk about this all...well…I would have said morning, but it must be close to that now. We will talk about this later, after we've all had a big amount of rest. I Promise never to snap like that ever again."   
  
Christine waved it away. "Yes, let's talk about it then."  
  
"Are you sure that I can leave you with Erik? Do you trust him?" Megan asked, inwardly shivering even though she had what she felt layers of clothes on. The man still scared her to death.   
  
"Yes Megan. I care about Erik very much. No, he would never harm me. I am safe there." Determined not to have another argument, she eagerly thought of how soon it would be until they were to Mme. Giry's office and she could talk to him again.   
  
"Good, then you won't mind if I wait outside that door to tell you goodnight." Megan chuckled softly. "My days of being fascinated about the Opera ghost are long gone."  
  
"What a pity, I enjoyed your stories. I know you're still afraid, I won't blame you for that. It's alright." Christine put a hand on her friend's shoulder in a sweet gesture.  
  
The darkened halls gave off a glow of their own, and Megan remembered all the lovely stories she used to make up with the other ballet rats about him coming down the halls, eyes aglow. She loved stories about the ghost, even wrote them all down in a scrapbook. That of course, was in her old doll chest, with her first pair of toe shoes, and her dolls, loved until some of them began to fall apart. "Here's mother's office. I'll just wait outside. I don't want to invoke the anger of any ghost in there." Megan smirked, pausing at the door.  
  
Christine giggled and winked. It was if the argument they had was on it's way to fading into nothingness. "Oh a ghost is it? Maybe he's there, just a pile of sheets with eyes cut out. Or maybe….his eyes are aglow and he's coming to scare us all, and go boo in the night. That would be scary eh?"  
  
Megan laughed. "You are forgetting the ghost also made blood pour down the walls, and hands crawl under doors."  
  
"You would have loved my father's stories. He would have even surpassed you, I think." Christine drew her cloak closer to her as she felt a shiver go down her spine, just thinking of Megan's stories. She couldn't help it, they were frightening, even if she cared about the man behind the story.   
  
Megan pushed Christine inside the door. "Now go on, don't make me spend all morning inside these drafty halls. I deserve a warm bed as do you. "  
  
Christine's heart resounded with anticipation of seeing Erik's face just beyond that door. She tried not to let it show fully and walked into the room, taking off her cloak. She had came back to nothing. Had Erik not heard her say that she would return? Angry, and let down, she returned to the desk, finding a note there writing with Erik's unruly hand. Surely, he would give an explanation.  
  
Christine,  
  
I must leave you now, but never think for a moment that I am not with you. I cannot return for quite sometime, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to tell you the reasons why. I have given Mme. Giry enough money to provide for you a new wardrobe, and you must write to me if you've need of anything. Please put the letters in box five themselves, or give them to Mme. Giry, as she has always been my trusted friend and will see to this. It is to be our secret-this is how it has to be if we are to talk to each other. It will not be for long, Christine.  
  
Ever yours,  
Erik.   
  
  
Christine dropped the letter as if it caused her hands to be on fire and then remembered to pick it back up before anyone saw it. What if they were in danger? What if someone wanted to harm Erik? She could never forgive herself if someone killed him because she had exposed him once more. She returned to Meg and hastily explained what she could, told her that she would be staying with Megan today and for a long time.   
  
Megan smiled, knowing she would have support and things might be smoothed out as long as she had Christine as a distraction and could go to her whenever she had trouble. Things would be settled now, and Megan needed stability now more than anything. "Yes, lets find a good place to lie down and sleep, and then maybe the snow will let up. I will love going with you and seeing you try on all those pretty things. It's been so long since we've all had something fashionable to wear, something new and pretty. Times have been so rough." She tried not to mention the reason it had been, the scandal of the Opera ghost bringing down ticket sales, and because of it, little sacrifices had to be made.   
  
"Well, I shall see that you have a new outfit or two of your own. I can't possibly see all this wasted on me. It is ridiculous." Christine tried to see the positive, knowing this would be the biggest trial of her life. She has promised to always be Erik's friend, but that was more difficult when she was away from him, barely allowed to speak with him, much less see him.   
  
"No it isn't, it's because you're so beautiful. Really, the most fetching girl I've ever seen in Paris. You're like a pretty doll, everyone wants to see you wear the nicest things."  
  
"I am not beautiful, but thank you for saying so." Christine commented, moving away from the door and going where Megan led her, to where her mother slept, she supposed.   
  
"It's true!"   
  
"It doesn't matter." Christine wanted a candle, it was so dark and dreary. Part of her was numb, with shock. What would ever make Erik leave? Was it her? Did he still care for her at all? It must have seemed forever, peeking into one room after another, searching for Mme. Giry,   
  
"Well, " Meg said, putting her ear up to the door, " This one has to be where she's at, she's snoring away. We're safe. Let's go in and find some rest before she gets up and starts wanting practice, like she usually does."  
  
"No girls are here Meg."  
  
"That doesn't matter to her." Meg giggled. "I must be in top form."  
  
Together they spread out blankets and began to get comfortable in their pallets. The warmth of the fire enveloped them both and soon Christine spotted Meg asleep, snoring softly in time with her mother. She admired the picture and finally slept, quite restlessly, her dreams taking her to where her conscious mind never would be able to do.  
  
  
Christine spent the first few weeks in the opera mending costumes, it was to be her new job. It was best that way, she figured for her to keep the peace between Mme. Giry and herself. She sat in a chair most of the time, wanting a free moment to write a letter to Erik. But she could not, for her job and the errands took up a lot of her day. She was lucky to go home with Megan each day and eat something, and fall asleep.   
  
Mme. Giry was sure of her every move, and that irritated her. Christine had been able to do whatever she had wanted for the last year and a half of her life, and for her to be coddled and watched like a toddler annoyed her. She was a grown woman, was she not?   
  
Christine was exhausted, and hadn't sung in weeks. Singing to her had once been as necessary as breathing, but suddenly, it wasn't. Her reason for singing had left her. She mused that Erik would be highly disappointed in that, but being bent over in a chair while concentrating on carefully stitching sequins did that to one, she figured. Megan and herself hadn't had any time for their usual fun-partially because rehearsals had been just as strenuous. She tried very hard to write Erik, but could not-partially because she could never think of what quite to say.  
  
That embarrassed her wholly. She knew what Erik would immediately think when he wanted her to write him and wouldn't. He would automatically think the worst, that she only talked kindly to him because he saved her life and so forth. She would just have to force herself to write the letter, shy or not and apologize and explain herself.   
  
She decided to do so on her break from lunch-and give it to Mme. Giry as soon as she could, even though Mme. Giry never left the Opera house for her home until late at night. Usually, Christine was in bed long before then, and their relationship was confused and muddled at best. She knew she lived there because Megan wanted her too, but otherwise, she didn't think she wanted to know Mme. Giry's opinion on it. She did help with the housekeeping whenever she could and Megan and her could have a merry time just talking.   
  
There had been no time for a pretty new wardrobe and nice things-she didn't know how she had become so exhausted just by her job running little errands and mending the exquisite costumes, but she had. She understood the meaning of it, to keep her from being noticed, for she knew what scandal would occur if that were so. She should be happy she had a place to stay, food to eat, and something to do, but to her that wasn't enough. She longed for the days where she spent quiet hours in Erik's home, reading, singing, and resting.   
  
But, she thought, what else would she be doing if she were married to Raoul? No doubt they would have some children by now, and children were terribly notorious for stealing your sleep. She was sure that while he had a title, and people that could have taken care of the children, she never would have agreed to that and would have taken care of them herself.   
  
There would never be any children of Raoul's, she thought sadly. None to take horse ridding lessons, to go to universities, and become women and men of the world. No legacy at all. There was nothing to be done about that however, and she decided to not dwell upon it. Finally her break came, and she wrote her letter hurriedly. There was only one thing she could ask, and that was-"Do you not want to be my friend anymore? Why did you leave?", and quickly she signed her name.   
  
After a long day, she ran to Mme. Giry's office in elation. Be it a short letter, it was a start, and Christine was proud of herself. Smiling she went up to Mme, who was buried in her work.   
  
"May you please give this to Erik?" She spoke softly, holding out the letter as if it was the most precious thing in existence to her. "He told me that I may write whenever I want to him and you would give the letter to him directly. "   
  
"Absolutely not." Mme. Giry replied, not even looking up at Christine as she read through what was no doubt, a checks and balances book.   
  
Christine was taken aback. What did she mean, no? Hadn't Christine done everything that Mme. Giry had wanted in the time that she had worked there? Hadn't she gave whatever money she earned to her so that she could have a place to stay? She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, trying to get some courage. "Why not? Have I done anything wrong?"  
  
"No, child you haven't but-I am afraid that communication between you and Erik has to cease if the Opera house is to have peace once more." Mme. Giry gave her a sympathetic look.   
  
"I promised I would write him. I've waited so long…I'm afraid he might think I do not want to be his friend anymore and-" Christine began to babble, utterly afraid of Mme. Giry. Maybe it was her stern look that made her afraid, or the way that Mme. Giry never wore a friendly color. She tried to remember that she was Megan's mother, someone who at home acted so completely kind to Megan-but her rough exterior ruled over Christine's thoughts.   
  
"Foolish Child! He does not want to be your friend! He couldn't stand to be your friend! Don't you see that he still loves you?" Mme. Giry shouted, watching Christine cower and move away. "I know that you're a naïve young woman, too generous with your heart and your time, but you tempt him simply by being so. Everyone sees that but you. He will not want to be friends, you silly girl. Not for long. Do you not remember what he caused just to get an ounce of your affection? "  
  
Christine remembered all to well, and it shamed her just thinking about it. She could not help being shy, she really couldn't. It wasn't fair of everyone to label her so. "If he wants it, let him have it. It's mine to give." She whispered, not even able to make eye contact.   
  
"I cannot allow this. There has been too many deaths, Christine Daae. Too many. Would you forget that as well?"   
  
"Do you forget that every time you help him, Mme. Giry?" Christine said coldly. "You have been witness to several accidents, long before I ever set foot upon the grounds. You still provide for him, and help him."  
  
Mme. Giry couldn't answer her, for at once the child had begun to become bold in her actions. Something of fire blazed in Christine's eyes, something akin to Erik's rage. "It is because I care for his fate. His genius should not be overlooked by the world. I had hoped-", She cleared her throat, her breath shaky, "I had hoped that what he had done to this world could be explained by what the world did to him. And it is. The world decided to cage a mere child and beat him until he had shown his face."   
  
"That is exactly why I must be his friend, Madame. So please give this letter to him, please Madame." Christine said calmly, past begging, and too tired to argue.   
  
"No. I will not let your tryst stand in the way of your peace and his. When you left there was peace, now , there most certainly cannot be. Not with the two of you speaking."   
  
Christine bit her bottom lip, nodding as if to a solemn statement that only she could make as she started towards the door. . "In this case, peace is only clouded misery and ignorance. No, I will not ignore nor will I treat him in a such a manner. If you will not help me reach him, then I will just have to go down to his home to reach him myself. And don't try to stop me, Mme. Giry. "   
  
"Christine Daae, don't you dare!" Mme. Giry said, "You have your job to think of, your stable life."   
  
"Stability doesn't mean anything unless I am happy. Well I'm going to do what makes me happy. I hope that one day you'll learn to do the same." Christine whispered, and then headed out the door.  
  
Mme. Giry was awestruck-what had possessed Christine so? Nadir had told her he had seen the same reaction in Erik. Nadir had done everything he could short of chaining Erik to the wall-, and every letter Erik had wrote to Christine had been burned. They could not have any more death-absolutely not. Yet this child was defying them outright, and she only hoped that Nadir would not soften as she just had.   
  
  
Well….Review if you want! I really want you guys' opinion- I plan on continuing it and everything, I just want to know if you guys hate it or like it. 


	8. A matter of trust

Disclaimer: Erik has promised to have our second honey moon in Ireland. So yep, that means he's still my husband, and…..sadly… he still owns everything! I suppose I should beg a little more…maybe one day I'll own everything and the disclaimers will be about me!!! HAHAHHHAHAHAHHA on a sadder note, I heard my favorite show Birds of Prey is getting cancelled so I'm pretty PO'd about it. Btw, has anyone noticed how much "#1 crush " by Garbage sounds like a Erik and Christine song? Read and Review and tell me if you liked it or not, because that's pretty much the only way I'll know if this story is any good?  
  
  
  
  
Christine put her white shawl around her shoulders and donned a warm dress that she always brought with her. Sometimes the Opera House could be a little drafty, and if needs be, she would change there in one of the dressing rooms and feel a lot better. She hated the color of it, a drab brown, but it was the best she could come up with at the time, seeing as how she hadn't been able to buy any new things. She reached her old dressing room in disgust, noticing it had been boarded up, and locked. She kicked it in anger and then decided on her new path, the entrance through the Rue Scribe.   
  
  
  
Erik sat wearily in front of the organ, unsure of what to play. Music now held no comfort, it hurt worse knowing that she lived above his world and didn't care of his existence at all. Nadir had told him that there were no replies to his letters, and gradually Erik found less and less of a reason to go up there and watch her. It was because Christine didn't want him there.   
  
"Erik, here is your tea." Nadir said quietly, bringing the lemon honey mixture to him. Erik shrugged, trying to forget a tiny petite woman that brought him his tea once when he had been ill. He drank the concoction, for it truly was awful, but she came to him with such a smile in her eyes that he couldn't dare say what he thought. Wretched child, he cursed, taking the tea, and damn Nadir.  
  
His friend had followed him as if Erik was on the verge of committing a crime the likes that Paris had never seen. By God, even if he wanted to see Christine he couldn't. Nadir had done one thing for him, and it was deliver his letters to her, even though he never received as much as a reply from her.  
  
Maybe he shouldn't have tried even being on terms of companionship. Besides Nadir, he had never had a friend before, and partly because he didn't wish to let anyone in. His child hood was proof enough to him that he could never let anyone inside his psyche. But how could Christine use him like this? How could she kiss him, to save a life? And how could she promise to be his friend, when she only cared that he saved her life?   
  
Erik felt like an ugly puppet that Christine had become dissatisfied with. Broken for the final time. He returned to his tea and tried to gather his thoughts, but it was impossible. Nadir stared at him as if he waited for Erik to say something.  
  
"What is it, Nadir? You act as if you poisoned the tea and are quite impatient for the moment I wither and die. Well my friend, if you had poisoned the tea it will not work, unfortunately for the both of us. I have been poisoned before-it failed. "  
  
Nadir shook his head, rubbing his hands and looking in the either direction. Erik's eyes had a way of peering into the soul. "Do not say such things. I would never harm you, after what you did for Reza."  
  
"No, the poison is invisible, Christine's poison that she made with her very decisions, quickly brewed with not much thought into the ingredients. Your son was a good and innocent soul. I only lit his way to heaven, if it exists. I've always been the grim reaper, at best. I cannot…live like this, knowing she does not give a damn what I do or think, that for the last few years of my life I have waited so patiently for her affection. Her abandonment is most cruel. "   
  
Nadir turned away from the sight, hearing the sound of Erik taking off his mask. He would want to be alone now, as he usually did. Nadir was filled with the thought of Reza, his son who was stricken with a muscular disease that left him blind, his only child from his beautiful and loving late wife. He never married again, being unconventional next to the men who would have remarried and not given love as much as a glance.   
  
Why had he agreed to this in the first place? They loved each other-or could love each other if anyone would give them the chance. Why keep them from such a possibility any longer? Nadir left the room and wandered, trying to give Erik the time he needed to compose himself. His rages and, his sorrow he dealt with alone, and it was easier on one's neck if you left him alone to have them.   
  
  
Christine was tired from poling the boat along, but finally she had reached her destination. She crept near the portcullis, watching Erik with pensive eyes. He was upset, his hands clutching at something ungraspable. She began to run to him, and then stumbled on the carpets, as she felt the beginnings of a blush on her face as her eyes met Erik's feet. She really was too clumsy...and now quite possibly had invoked his anger.   
  
Watching him kneel towards her as he glared at her with eyes of anger and annoyance, Christine shrunk away from him, as if frightened. "I have…a letter for you.." She said softly, thrusting it out of her pockets as if it were her saving grace.   
  
He glanced at her and smirked. "Why would you write a monster anyway? No, take back your letter Christine, for you have waited far to long, and I do not want it."   
  
"You don't?" Christine reeled in shock. What had Nadir and Mme. Giry done to him?   
  
Erik continued on his tirade. "When you have the world above you, why should you want to correspond? A monster surely would wait months for a reply from his letters, and here it is and Erik doesn't find your letter worthy enough. Ignore me as you did before! Go back to your world, you selfish little girl with your nonchalant cares!" He shoved at her, picking her up by her shoulders and dragging her back near the lake.  
  
"Erik!!! NO! Stop!!! Listen to me!!!" She shrieked as his fingers dug into her skin, even through the layers of clothing she had put on to protect herself from the dampness of the cellars. "What Letters! You didn't write me at all! You didn't care! And now I see even more now that you never did!" Christine said even softer.  
  
"Then you are a fool, Mlle. If you chose to ignore it, that is truly your problem, now isn't it?" He faced her, his breath rapid and his eyes frantic. "Nadir would have told me if you had wrote to me. Night after night he listened to me tell him how much I thought there might be a chance for you and I, and afterwards he would have to be the bearer of all bad news. How foolish I was too dream, how foolish I was to hope, that you might come to in time care about me. Well Christine, I have faced my reality, and it is time you faced yours. You are a liar, a betraying guttersnipe who only is fascinated with someone long enough to make her pacified."  
  
Christine laughed bitterly, and put her arms around herself. "I suppose you are right as always Erik. I am the beautiful part of you, as you once said. If what you say is true, then it is. But I never received a letter of yours, sir. Madame Giry did nothing but refuse any information, and if there ever was a letter that you had wrote to me, I most certainly never saw it. If you think that I ignored you, then let me remind you that I also worked and barely had the energy to write a letter. I tried giving this letter to Mme.Giry, and she wouldn't do it for me. Believe what you will." Christine shrugged, not even taking notice of Erik. His words hurt more than Meg's ever could, and her voice couldn't help but reflect that tone.   
  
Erik was heavily disturbed by her stance and her words. Nadir surely wouldn't lie-Nadir never had as long as Erik had knew him. And why hadn't the girl shrieked at his face, knowing that he was unmasked in front of her? Something had quietly changed within her, and he hadn't been a witness to it in the previous time apart.   
  
Nadir saw the confrontation with growing alarm, and became disgusted at what he had done, a part in Mme. Giry's plot to keep the supposed peace. Bought peace with more pain than he had ever imagined. As much as he had truly resented Christine in the beginning, he couldn't anymore-she had finally turned into someone who stood up for herself. He was ashamed, bitterly ashamed. He had tainted what seemed to be something good and pure for Erik, betrayed his friend once again and showed him the pain of what daylight could bring.   
  
Christine picked up a stone and threw it as far as she could, waiting to hear it land in the water. "I have told a few lies in my life, that is true. As you have, if you would be so kind to remember. You lied to me, told me you were an angel of music. I am forgiving and not resentful. Anger leads to regret and resentment, Erik. And I don't regret what you taught me, or…that I kissed you. I did it because I was drawn to you, and wanted to. I wanted very much to be your friend. However, you have such a intimidating personality I was so afraid of what to say! I never had word from you and I began to fear you were angry with me. How was I to know?" She managed to sit on the ground and tuck in her skirts. Eerily calm, she sighed and waited for a response.  
  
"Nadir wouldn't lie, Christine. You kissed me to save Raoul's life, however drawn to me that you were. I will not deny that I enjoyed it. " He stood behind her, afraid to as much touch the energy that swirled around her. Indeed, she was a dangerous beauty-if not more so now.   
  
"I kissed you, because I wanted to. Not because I was made to by the circumstances. Whether your friend Nadir is a liar or not, Madame Giry didn't want me to come down here, or even let me write letters to you. She was afraid that by me doing so you would do something dangerous. I just wanted to see that you had your letter. Now, you have it. Whether you believe me or not is totally up to you. "   
  
Nadir appeared at the entrance of the home, trying to gather up courage. It was so very difficult to say what needed to be said, especially if Erik would think of killing him over it. "I believe you, Mademoiselle. "  
  
Christine jumped at the sight of the man, the Persian she had only seen once in her lifetime, when he had led Raoul to her lair. His thick robes, the foreign appearance was nothing short of something out of the Arabian fairy tales that Erik used to tell her. "You do?"  
  
"I do , child."  
  
Erik was puzzled, seeing Christine begin to speak. He put a hand over Christine's mouth, shushing her immediately. What did Nadir mean, by believing her treachery? "Nadir, I can over look lies just once, because we are friends. But how can you believe that she is telling the truth?"  
  
Nadir shook his head, sorrow showing in every line of his tan and weathered face. His gray mustache twitched as he tried to find the right words, his smoky voice shaky and skittish . "She is telling no falsehoods. I helped burn every one of your letters. Madame Giry thought that the past was best left in peace for the both of you. So she put Christine to work and didn't follow a bit of your instructions. I was to watch over you, and she vice versa for Christine. There was no new wardrobe, no trips outside of the Opera House unless Christine was to go straight home. I was to watch over you, make sure you never had the chance to see Christine. Madame thought she was doing a good thing, and asked me to go along with it. She didn't want any death caused by your love for Christine. I can see now that I participated in a grave mistake."  
  
Christine tore away Erik's hand, in a fit of anger and went up to Nadir, her body shaking with anger. "What you did was cruel. How could you do that if you were his friend! How could you allow this to happen! Of course it was a mistake! Now he'll never believe a word I say, and it's your fault!"  
  
"Mademoiselle, I know it is my fault and I am grievously sorry."  
  
Christine sighed and turned away, her mind somewhere else. "I suppose that trust doesn't matter anymore, does it. Certainly not between friends. That must hurt you to know that you have no real friendship, Monsieur.."   
  
Christine gasped as she turned around, hearing muffled sounds behind her. Nadir was dangling from some feet in the air, his hands grasping at an invisible line around his neck. "Stop!!!", She screamed as she backed away from the scene, her hands covering her face as she took step after step in the other direction. She felt her feet grace edgy rock. "He is your friend Erik, you must have mercy! If you kill him…Mme. Giry will be right. They'll kill you Erik! "  
  
Erik let go of the noose and let Nadir fall to the ground watching the older man rub his neck as his chest heaved gathering air. "The only thing I saw mercy and beauty in is you, Christine. If you wish his life, then you have it."  
  
Nadir came crawling to Christine, kissing the tips of her gown. "Bless you, child. You saved me from death."   
  
Christine extended her pale hand and helped him to stand, noticing Erik's quiet stature. She was disturbed by it.  
  
"Her mercy has granted you pardon, may you never be as foolish as to betray her again." Erik spoke, picking up Nadir roughly and shoving him in the black boat that would take him away from him. Erik crossed his arms across his chest and then turned to face Christine.   
  
She watched Nadir paddle furiously with the oar, as if flames were threatening to engulf the boat. She muttered a prayer that he would not find Mme. Giry. What they would do to Erik made Christine's stomach turn and knot itself. They would kill him.   
  
Erik never left the water's side, watching pass into just a sliver of light. Silently she wondered what conscience did he have left if he would kill his friend? But Nadir would have killed him just the same, if he had felt it necessary. Her heart broke thinking that Erik really had no one that had ever trusted him.  
  
Erik was caught up in a sea of regret. Was there no fate in the world that would allow them to simply be? He hadn't even noticed Christine kneeling into the water, her eyes upon her reflection. A silver tear fell from her right eye and dropped into the lake. "You were right Christine. And I didn't have the sense to believe you."   
  
"Why should you?" She said softly, take a short breath in so that the sobs wouldn't come. "It was only a matter of time, before hearing became believing. No one trusts me enough in the world, except for dear Meg. Mme. Giry takes me as a incompetent child who cannot come to her own decisions and must be treated as one who is slow. I'm not mad, I'm not an idiot, and I'm certainly not a fool, not anymore. I'm sorry that in all the world, you picked me to love. No one can trust me it seems, maybe with good reason. You can trust me now. Tell me to leave, and I'll will fight you, but I'll go. I'll disappear so that no one will ever have to be burdened with me."   
  
"You are not ever a burden." He crouched near her and took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders, barely touching the sleeves of her dress. It was the only thing he could do, for his touch would surely repulse her. Her whole body shuddered with the feeling of warmth, but he saw it as disgust and he moved away.  
  
The cloak warmed her completely, almost too quickly and she wiped her eyes harshly, trying to remind herself that he was only doing this so she wouldn't harm herself once more. "Meg and I had talked about why had tried to end my life once. And Mme. Giry over heard. I heard her up late that night, mumbling to herself how she had to watch a baby that couldn't take care of itself. She thought she'd come home and find me naked in her bathtub, blood every where from where I'd slit my wrists. I've had moments of happiness in my life, and I'd never do that again because I promised you I never would. Even you had held me so high above the earth before, that I had something to live on. I'm not a complaining person. I've hardly made such trouble, and I didn't mean to be such an awful mess that Mme. Giry thought she was taking care of a baby. I'm certainly not one. No matter whom I might have chosen to have married, I still would have been someone's wife and lover. And that would have meant everything to me." She rose and wrapped the cloak around her, the material so soft it felt like a dove's wings.   
  
  
He opened the door to his home as if she hadn't said a word at all, and she entered the room dumbfounded. What if Nadir came for them with a mob? What if they killed Erik and then locked her away in some asylum? "They might be coming for us, Erik. "  
  
"Let them." He sat on the organ bench and crossed his arms, his head hanging as if beaten and ashamed. "They'll take you away and you'll be in the world in which you belong where a future with a husband and children await you. I was too enthralled by my rage and blood lust that I ruined any chance of you ever being mine again but Erik does not matter. Leave Christine. Before they come and kill me. Let the monster spare you the travesty of his death. Like all animals, he would like to die alone." He took of his gloves and tossed them to the side of the room in the grotto like home, the fire flickering softly as it crackled.   
  
Christine whimpered, until she found a pair of lovely blue eyes boring into hers. Ayesha, who had always hated her was here, running up the sides of the davenport until she found Christine's face. Cautiously, she rubbed her furry head against Christine's cheek, and then inserted herself into a willing lap. Sighing, she petted Ayesha out of pure surprise and astonishment. No sooner had the cat been there, she was gone and into Erik's lap where he tossed her out repeatedly.   
  
Ayesha growled and yipped at him, batting at his coat until she knocked something out of his pockets. She put it in her mouth and triumphantly walked onto the davenport and began playing with it. Christine was disturbed by the cat's behavior. The feline had never taken to Christine, and Christine's arms had shown a few of the battle scars. How odd for her to take to her now, when it seemed that Erik was going to make her leave and that her whole world of comfort would be ending?   
  
"I'm staying, Erik. And you won't die. You wouldn't dare as long as I promised to stay. Don't force me to go! You are not a monster, and you won't die." She repeated, even though she felt it had no effect. "I will threaten them with every fiber of my soul. They can't take me away from my home. And you shouldn't let them either."  
  
  
Authors Note: What's up with fan fiction.net? Why are they becoming so restrictive? Is it to save space for their nonfiction when they're called FAN FICTION.NET? I don't get that. Anyway, read and review if you want. 


	9. I'll always love you

Disclaimer: Disclaimers try my patience. I don't own anything, get used to it! I'm sorry there hasn't been an update in a long long while. I've been going through a difficult period in my life-it seems I've given up most phantom rpg, everything (and for those that I just dropped from without a trace, I am sorry. I owe you all a big apology and an explanation.). I was able to put up some stories here, one about Meg I believe. It seems my heart has gone out of a lot of things...but my love for phantom is always there. No, I don't own phantom. I only own about 5 cents, a cat, and a bunch of books and cds. Anything else…well that's up for grabs I guess.   
  
"It's impossible. Christine. Go back to your world above, they'll kill you if you stay." Erik muttered, begging her with all the energy he had left. He had not believed her, judged her most cruel-and she still stayed like some angel with beacons of hope.  
  
She ran to him and clutched her hands on his shoulders, shaking him until he looked into her wild and frantic eyes. "Don't you understand Erik! If I go above, it would be like killing myself! I can't live without you! I love you!!!" She gasped and crumbled to the ground, letting go of him in her fall. Christine could not breathe, the room felt so small all at once and restricting-the world was swirling around her and all she could see was Erik's shock.   
  
For a moment there was silence-unbelievable silence. She covered her mouth-taken away with what she had never been able to say before in her lifetime. Was she truly worthy of him now and would Raoul forgive her? Her body trembled as if it wished to fold itself into halves inside.   
Erik moaned softly, for fear that this was a dream and he would never wake up. The poor child had admitted that she loved him. Her eyes were wide, her breathing frantic as a hummingbirds wing. Afraid to cry, afraid to move…  
  
Afraid to feel. His eyes watered with the swelling of emotions in him, for once she had said that, he knew that she could never leave him. She wanted him, wanted to risk death for him, and what person that had ever crossed his path had ever wanted so much? Could she accept him for what he was, a being who laid his life at her feet?   
  
She chuckled once she got breath again, hiccupping in her distress. "I'm not leaving. Never. I love you." She stood and put her arms around him, sighing as her body calmed and grew still. "And we'll find away to be together."  
  
"Not even my mother would touch me, except to hit me." He muttered again, holding himself in from her soothing touch.  
  
"I won't hit you Erik." She rocked him in her arms until he softened and held her tightly. She had missed such contact so much that she could hardly guess what it would be like to live without it for most of her life as he had.   
  
"They'll be coming soon, I know they will, after what I've done." Erik said softly, his breath haggard and heavy, as he voiced his thoughts out loud. "What shall we do?"  
  
Christine noticed how he almost whimpered and bit her lip. "Aren't there several hiding spots inside your home? Surely, there would be."  
  
Erik thought carefully. "I know of one-that can hide us very well. Nadir has no idea that it exists. It is without light, but it should hide us rather well until they leave. "  
  
Christine shuddered, thinking of the dark, how closed in spaces scared her to pieces. But it wouldn't be that scary if she had someone near, she thought. She resolved herself on the issue and nodded, picking up the cat while Erik gathered an extra blanket or two and showed her his secret place.  
  
Christine cuddled with the cat, trying her best to remain calm. It was a rectangular cave shaped room no bigger than a closet, that smelled of mold and dust. She sneezed, frightening Ayesha who ran into the darkness with a loud protest. She took one of the blankets from him and covered herself completely in it and then paused, looking at the darkness with apprehension. How long would they have to stay in here? He pushed her forward and she groped along the walls and sat, trying to close her eyes and not think about the dark. "Erik?"  
  
He could barely breathe, still in a daze over what she admitted. She nestled her body next to his out of want of warmth and comfort. "What is it?"   
  
"Are there…", Christine gathered her breath, "rats in here?" She heard a mouse squeak and she gulped, hoping that one wouldn't crawl on her.  
  
He could not help but chuckle at her distress. "And what if there were other sorts of detestable things in here? What if there were spiders?"  
  
She whimpered at the thought of all the black disgusting spiders that might be where they had to hide. She could almost see his arched eyebrow in the air, poised to mock her. "Don't talk like that. It isn't in the remote bit hilarious."  
  
"Oh but it is my dear, it truly is. To think that a poor spider couldn't live because it merely resided with you. Within ten feet of you. A spider is harmless, unless you step on it, and it is a remarkable insect, don't you think? Of course you wouldn't agree with me. Do you know I heard once that even elephants are afraid of mice?"  
  
"I don't think I care if they do or not. I'm hardly comparable to an elephant. Besides, I have the cat with us, and she'll take care of me. " She reasoned triumphantly, giving Ayesha a soft pat on her soft head.   
  
"And to think yesterday she would have spat in your direction." He said teasingly, hearing her gasp.  
  
"Well whom she makes friends with is most certainly her business, is it not? Maybe she likes me now!" She crossed her arms and sighed.   
  
"She has every reason to like you, my dear."   
  
Christine smiled out of contentment and felt Ayesha's warm body curl up near her side. Whatever she had done to win the feline's trust, she wouldn't betray it. She could very well remember the days where she had been half tempted to mutter curses at Ayesha, when Ayesha would strike out and hiss at her. Could it be that she would only accept Christine when she had shown affection and love to Erik as well? Christine appreciatively patted Ayesha's soft fur.   
Ayesha meowed and clawed at Christine's skirts until she had realized what the cat had been playing with earlier in the living room. She could barely make out what it was. A small onyx ring, one that had known Christine's hand before, before she knew what it really meant to wear it. She picked it up from Ayesha, stopping a minute to stroke the small feline body. Christine could barely swallow, her throat was constricted with anxiety over what Erik might say. After all, there had been a time when that ring had occupied her finger out of anger, a bond that was forced.   
  
"Erik…did Ayesha take something from your pocket?" She asked cautiously.   
  
Erik took the small ring out of curiosity , his eyes narrowing as he focused on it. "When did she get that from me?"  
  
"I'm not sure but .."  
  
"It belongs to you, Christine." Erik the ring and put it back inside her palm, her warm fingers so different from his cold skeletal hand. The ring reminded him too much of that night when he had put it upon her finger, only to have her reveal him to Paris. If the child could but see what hope she had given to him in the last few hours, then maybe she would agree to wear it again.  
  
Christine stayed silent, feeling the ring warm, unsure of what to say. She yawned, very sure it could be near midnight. She leaned up against the wall, a cat cuddled near her, and Erik to keep her safe. She knew he would keep watch until they could escape.   
"They'll kill us or each other. I simply won't allow it." Mme.Giry said firmly, speaking with Firmin and Nadir when he had arrived. Mme.Giry knew her course when she saw the marks upon the Persians neck, and his terrified look in his eyes. They had failed.   
  
"No no Madame, we must not do this!" Nadir shouted. "You've no earthly idea how they care about each other! This is madness! For what we did to them we deserve it, Madame."  
  
Meg stood in the room silently, fuming. She had bared the brunt of Christine's tears, had seen that Christine slipped into herself a little more each day since Erik had disappeared. Her anger at the situation, and people's ignorance only fueled her need to speak. Crossing her arms, she silently prayed that Erik and Christine were out of here for good, and for their own sake.   
  
"Mother," Meg said calmly, going up to her and putting a hand on her mother's shoulder, "we can't do this. Erik won't harm her."  
  
"How do you know he's not already killed her?"  
  
"You are talking as if you're mad mother. You happen to know better. In fact, as you always used to scold me, You're Old enough now to know better. And now you've seen how Christine fell into despair over Erik and how she defied you to see him again. You saw what folly your scheme to keep them apart really was, and if you haven't, I'm sure you will soon. At last there is some happiness in this world, and I am not stopping it. "   
  
"You've no idea what you are saying!" Mme.Giry barely whispered out of urgency.   
  
"I'll prove it to you that they're happy. I'll go down to the lair myself and get a letter from Christine telling you so. That's how much I love you and don't want to see you, make a fool out of yourself." Meg gathered her thoughts and winked at the stunned audience she had in the room.   
  
"Good bye Mother. I'll return shortly, and don't bother to follow me." She warned, "And neither should the rest of you. I never thought any of you had a lick of sense in the lot of you. Now I know it."   
the updates are for Kiki…who reviewed this this morning and …told me to get on with it. I can't tell you how much everyone's reviews have meant to me, I love to write it's just my heart has been out of it lately. Review everyone that wants to, I'd love hearing from you! 


	10. You cast a spell upon me

Disclaimer : Do I have to keep doing this? Sheesh! Well..Uh..Firmin's new wife might be the only character that I can say I made myself. I'm trying to give Christine a voice, Susan Kay gave such depth to Erik-I just wish someone would do the same for Christine. She deserves a better background. : ( I will now attempt to go half arse at it. Any flames, are helpful, and any positive reviews and comments I will treasure.   
Christine could not sleep, not accustomed to the forced silence or the prolonged exposure to the dark.   
"Oh I can't take this!" She whimpered. "I must have something to pass the time or I'll go mad!" She kneaded her temples and sighed.  
  
"Then tell me a story." Erik whispered, "Do you remember when you first spoke to the angel of music and told him everything?"  
  
Christine laughed at the fading memory he had produced by just a sentence, a young woman wanting to be blessed in the angel of music-telling her angel everything (well, almost everything) out of sheer wonder. What a feeling it had been, such an exhilaration, to know that she was in the presence of an angel, something that did not happen to people, unless people from the bible. "How could I forget?"  
  
"Would it be so hard to tell me a story now? Surely, it would be interesting to hear a story again. You owe me after all the Persian tales I told you."  
  
Christine smiled at those nights when he told her all of those great legends, it was so much like her father's tales when she was a little girl-that she even put her head on his lap while he told them, letting his fingers run through her hair with adoration. She missed that soothing touch, the way he could put her at ease so quickly. She sighed out of pure joy at the memory. "What would you like to hear Erik?"  
  
"A story of your childhood."  
  
He had said it so quickly as if he had planned to ask about it sometime before and Christine panicked. If he asked about Raoul, she would surely burst into tears, not knowing what exactly to say. If she asked about her father, well-the loss of him was too dear and she surely could not go into detail about that right away. "But Erik, I surely have told you about my father-"  
  
"I want to hear of your mother. It is most important you see, that you tell me. I have to know, Christine, why you have never spoke of her, like it was a dark secret." Erik sounded pained, remembering his mother. Surely she had not been treated the same way as he-for she had such a beautiful remembrance of her father-and he had assumed that her mother was someone Christine had never known-a horrible childbirth or some such.   
  
"Oh! It was never a dark secret-her memory is so faded now, you see she died when I was just five or six years old, Erik. She did treat me well, but she was a firm and strict person, quite a bit different from my father who spoiled me.. Would you like to hear about how she met my father? Don`t worry, it`s a odd little story and you will love it." She smiled, hoping that helped cheer him up somewhat.   
  
"Tell me everything Christine, for we have plenty of time-they are gathering up the courage to confront us, I can bet on it. " He said with a calming tone, even though the fear of such a battle was eating him alive. He had to keep Christine distracted, for her heart was a worrying one, and she would have a fit at the thought of it.   
  
She shuddered at the thought of her friends killing her lover, the picture too violent for her to imagine, even in her most morbid thoughts. So she began her story. "My father was a man who could take on any trade he wanted. He was a carpenter, he repaired clocks and violins-but music was his first passion. His parents were long deceased, and he had inherited their home-so naturally village gossips wondered why he did not want a wife and did not court any of the women in the village. My father was an odd sort, he was always inventing this and that-he spent his time at home always concocting something. He would take his odd inventions to the fairs around where he lived and sell them, or play his violin for fun there. Often another musician would join him and a crowd would gather."  
  
"My father was a nervous man, but there was nothing about him that would suggest he was undesirable. Even though he was about 30 years old at the time, he still had the features of a much younger man. I was told that he was quite handsome-he had unruly dark blonde hair and blue eyes. This recollection is one of the few things I remember that my mother told me. Well, the group of musicians at this fair had attracted quite a crowd, even though it was growing dark."  
  
"It was then that someone requested from the band a familiar folk song, and my father began to play the tune, it had a sweet melody, one that had been composed in a time of famine. Then, from the group of people came my mother's voice, clean and pure-the crowd gasped..for the village she had came from had never heard her speak. She was a tiny, shy little woman, who had taken care of her mother until she had passed some months before. Considered a spinster, she never associated socially, least of all, a circle of friends that would be connected to my father." She smiled and took a huge breath, waiting for Erik to ask something, as he would, being the scientist and lover of history that he was.   
  
"And, what was her name? And what about you?" Erik asked.   
  
Christine shuddered at the thought of the one time she had asked Erik what his mother's name was. It was unbelievable how someone could hold in such love so tainted with hatred. Christine knew that Erik loved his mother more than he had ever loved anyone in his life-that he could never express it, for her to toss him aside. More than any other cruel thing that had been done to him, his mother's negligence and refusal to even care for the child properly made him bitter inside. For if his mother had shown one drop of pity, love for him would have been so much easier to accept.   
  
Christine knew the story had to continue, but she didn't want to sadden him. Yet she knew this was inevitable that it would sadden her as well. She had never told anyone ever, that as a child she thought she had killed her mother.   
  
"My mother's name was Elisabet. She had long curling dark hair and round blue eyes, and she was very petite and doll-like, despite her sternness. But that night she had a look of a young woman, and she joined the band of minstrels and began to sing the ballad with them. The people that had gathered to watch cried, my father said, because they were unused to such a pure sound. They had misjudged her and called her awful things because she did not socialize with others, even some of the younger girls of the village had called her a witch because she kept to herself and kept odd hours. "  
  
"Well, of course my father was besotted from the moment he heard her sing, and asked if he could call on her when he had the chance to. My mother accepted on the spot, charmed by him and his kindness. They had a short engagement, for one he already had a home, and a way to make a living. There was nothing stopping them from marriage. A year or so, I was born, on All Hallows Eve. Now this did not help the gossip about my mother in the least, but she bore it. I stuck to my mother and my father who spoiled me. Children used to tease me when I would play with them."  
  
"But some of the women in the village were good to my mother and they would bring their children to play with me. However, children are quick to pick up grownup's talk, more so than you would imagine for someone so young. Often children have imaginary friends, and of course I had mine. I would imagine my dolls were my friends.but young playmates used to tease me and say they were undead spirits. Little children love a story like that, to spook younger girls and boys. They say those who are born on All Hallows Eve never fully leave the spirit world behind and bring spirits with them. Of course, my mother dismissed it as pure fancy and wouldn't stand for it. Often some of the women never came back and freely gossiped behind her back that I was a trouble child."  
  
"But my father loved me from the moment I was placed in his arms. He told me not to listen, for if I indeed was anything that dealt with spirits, I was an Angel, and that the angel of music would bless me, because he would know my heart. Of course there is more to that story. But I'm sure you've heard it."  
  
Christine sighed and leaned into Erik, taking his arm and putting it around me. "Hold me, I can't bear it. I can't bear saying another word."  
  
Erik put his arms shakily around her and laid his head on her shoulder and kissed her hair. "Why? What are you holding in?"  
  
Christine could barely breathe. "I can't say it! I won't!"   
  
"Dear little Christine.who in this world would I tell your secret! There was a time when, you would tell everything to your angel of music. If not for one minute, could you trust me to bear your confidence?"  
  
"Very well Erik. I shall tell you what I've never told a soul. I was a good child, and it's a blessing that I didn't become a spoiled brat. My father would bring me special things, books, toys, music, anything my heart would desire. My mother would teach me to be grateful, to not take his generosity for granted. I knew I had a few more things than most of the children in the village, and it was a miracle that I was so humble and didn`t flaunt it. Well.one day of course my father brought home a canary and placed inside of a cage in the parlor. It was a beautiful bird with a green head and a yellow body. My father would pick me up and hold me while I fed him. Around this time my mother told me she was going to give me a brother or sister. My mother's health was waning, she often had to stay in bed for long periods of time, so I would sit there for hours staring at the bird while my father was away. If the bird was generous to sing it's tune, I would sing along, quite happily passing away the afternoons while my mother rested. One day.while she was resting, the bird ran out of food. I just knew it was hungry, and I couldn't wake my mother to get me the seed she had put up high on a shelf. So I planned to get it for myself and I got a chair from the dinner table and stood on it and put the seed in the cage. I also went outside and got some grasses that I thought the bird might like to eat, he was so hungry. He sung so beautifully and I fell asleep thinking he was singing to me because he was happy to have a full stomach at last."  
  
"When I awoke I had my mother's face in front of me, screaming at the mess I had made, not only that I had made a mess, but that I had...killed the bird by overfeeding him. My father came home to her yelling at me over it. Of course I was only a child, I didn't know that feeding the bird certain types of grass would kill him. I couldn't even look into my mothers eyes. She was right, had I but waited to awaken, but it was a terrible lesson to learn and my young heart would not accept that the bird had died and it was my fault."  
  
"My father yelled at her to stop scolding me like that, that I was a sensitive child and easily hurt. My Papa never fought with anyone, but to this day I can remember their shouting. It was that my mother wanted to do right by me and that she was so ill at the time. They say that women with child.why they act different and are quick to anger sometimes. She wasn't supposed to have another baby, I was a difficult birth, one that lasted days. It almost killed her. But she hungered for another child, she feared that I would be come spoilt and that it would be the best for me to have some siblings. And my father could not deny her innermost wish. Folly or not. Anyway, I hated their yelling so much, I threw a temper tantrum. They were surprised by my anger, it stopped them arguing immediately. `I hope you and the baby die just for spites sake'-I said, stomping as children do. My father made me swear I didn't mean it and sent me to bed."  
  
"My mother tried very much to love me those last few days, petting me and fussing over me, but I was bitter inside. I was a child with a grudge. I was upset over the bird dying, and I wouldn't even pay attention to my father. "  
  
"Of course the day came when my mother had my brother. I couldn't be sent anywhere so I was sent to my room, hearing her scream with the difficulty of labor..it was horrible. My father took me in his arms and held me, trying to cover my ears, but I could hear it all the same. Then the midwife who helped the doctor joyfully yelled at us to come and see, I had a little brother. I was never so happy to hear it and my Papa put me down and we ran both anxious to see what awaited us. I anticipated a chubby baby with dark curls and beautiful eyes, just like my dolls. When I finally was able to catch up, the doctor was outside the room and my father.my father was holding on to her so tightly. He was crying, at the time I thought it was tears of joy, but it wasn't. I stood at the foot of the bed and watched this curious bundle near her feet. The baby however..my brother. Oh Erik. Erik, he was dead. The doctor just shook his head as he tried his best to revive him, to breathe life into him, but the baby simply refused. By the time I came upon him he was wrapped inside a blanket, cold and still, but so beautiful. I was too young to understand that he was dead, I was only six, but something in me comprehended that he was peaceful. He had wispy black hair, just like mine and tiny hands and feet. I never thought in my life someone could be so tiny. I began to cry when I picked him up, no one told me not to. I tried to sing to him, to bring him back, to warm him, but alas, it was for nothing. My young heart did not know. "  
  
"My father tried to tell me, but his heart broke seeing me smiling at the baby and me sitting in the chair, trying my best to will him to live. My mother was barely breathing.she died later on in the night of heart trouble. The birth had just been too hard on her, and the shock of seeing her dead child, I cannot begin to think of what a tragedy. For days after the funeral I couldn't sleep without my father there with me to hold me. I'd have nightmares that I wished them both dead and scream into the night. I'd have dreams of my brother opening his eyes and screaming that I had killed him, only for my father to wake me and realize that it was I was screeching. "  
  
"I began to stay outside as much as possible, and I never spoke. The trauma was too much for me, too much for my mind-the only thing I would do is sing to myself in my mother's garden. I'd lay in the flowers and wish that I were in the ground, peaceful, silent-and still. My father came out of his grief and took me away from there. We sold everything in our little house and began to travel towards France. My Papa knew that he had a talent with violins and so he made them to pay our way towards Paris, music being my only solace. We did so many good things, saw so many beautiful things. But my father is another story, of course, and that part of my childhood without my mother was becoming happier each town we passed."  
  
"So Erik, I have told you what I knew about my mother, a story. It has passed quite the space of time. However I told it to you, I'll never know, but you needed to hear it."  
  
He nodded in the darkness as she reached for his hand and caressed it. He melted at the touch. "So sad my young love, your heart is so heavy."  
  
She smiled, her tears glistening be hind her eyes. Sighing, she put his hand to her lips and kissed it softly. "No.for the first time my heart is whole and full, and it is full of love for you. I shall never be sad again. I have music, and I have you. With love and music.I truly will be what I was meant to. " She reached over and took her hand and put it underneath her chin, dragging his face until it was in front of hers. Then she kissed his poor misshapen lips until they yielded to hers, molded and fit her own. The heavenly joining of two souls, she thought when she deepened her kiss.  
  
Later, when it was over, she rested her hand on his face, and grinned. "For the first time in my life, I can admit that I am happy. No matter what happens, I love you."   
  
"And for the second time tonight, I can believe you." Erik said, putting his hands around her waist and drawing her close. "For the first time in my life, your story has made me whole."  
  
Christine cried tears of joy at that..knowing that her promise to Erik was kept. She had made him whole. And that meant everything.   
IT"S NOT FINISHED LOL Ok.review if you want, HERE IT IS KIKI!!! *HUGS* I've just been so down in the dumps lately : ( I know what it is, I just don't want to burden ya'll, hope everyone has had a decent winter (Mine SUCKED!) Review if you feel the need to, I promise not to give up on this story-no matter where it goes. 


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